Juliet Climbs
by ruby gillis
Summary: COMPLETED! A sequel to my story, Juliet of New Moon, that chronicles the life of Emily Starr's daughter after WWII. R&R!
1. New Moon Dealings

"The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry of bugles going by," Juliet Kent quoted, from her place on the porch where she was observing the maple trees that surrounded her own dear home of New Moon. "Bliss Carman put it just right, didn't he? Oh, Bea, are you sure you're going to be happy with an autumn wedding?"

"No," Beatrice Miller--soon to be Walsh!--laughed. "Sometimes I think that I should have four weddings--one for each season. I could be a springtime bride, with a wreath of wildflowers on my hair--a winter bride with a cape of ermine and snowflakes for attendants--a summer bride with a bouquet of wild strawberries and the sun smiling down on me on my happiest day. But I can't go another day without being David's wife, so it's an autumn bride I'll be. There, Juliet, I so poetic now that even you and your mother would approve! Something about this--place--does that to a person."

Juliet smiled tenderly at her best friend. In her own mind, Bea's David Walsh was just _ordinary_--and he was old--almost fifteen years older than Bea! He had gray hair for goodness' sake! Juliet, with all the wisdom of her twenty years, thought it would be almost impossible to feel romantic over a man with gray hair. Unless, of course, that man was Allan. But if Bea was happy, than Juliet was happy, too--and Bea was, deliriously happy. 

"I never thought of you as an autumn bride," Juliet said tipping her head back to feel the distant rays of the sun on her forehead. "But I suppose--now that I think of it--it's perfect for you. Colorful--and vibrant--with a tang."

"Well, I never thought of you as a college-girl!" Bea shot back. "I've been thinking of it all day and it _still_ doesn't seem possible. Juliet, you were never very ambitious, were you? Or did I miss it?"

"No," Juliet laughed. "I liked school, I suppose, but I never thought of going to university until Uncle Dean put me through that course of history in the summer. Bea, I'm not going to Guelph because I like school--I'm going because I want to get my B.A. I'm going because I want to learn the history of the world, backwards and forwards. Oh, I do hope I like Guelph."

"You're lucky--you'll have Bella and Doug nearby," Bea said morosely. "But Juliet--I'll miss you so much!"

Juliet gave her friend a squeeze and wisely refrained from saying anything except, "It _will_ be nice to have Doug near again." She missed her twin so much at times with an ache that felt as if a palpable part of herself had been torn away. But truthfully, Juliet didn't think Bea would miss her at all. She would be too busy easing into her position as the new Mrs. David Walsh--too busy setting up the little house that had just been finished and stood waiting over in Harmony. 

"Besides, it's only for two years," Juliet reminded Bea. "I passed the qualifying exam that lets me take the short course, thank goodness! I'm so lucky to have Uncle Dean--I couldn't have done any of this without his help. Oh, college! You, Bea--you're getting married! How left out I feel! _Everyone_ is getting married--it seems as if you're all being initiated into a secret tribe of womanhood and I'm being left behind. Gilbert Ford and Cathy Douglas were married last week-end--it was just a small, subdued affair, because of old Dr. Blythe's death last month. But I saw Cathy in town today and she was glowing from the inside out with happiness and love. And Joy Meredith--I mean, Penhallow--is expecting a baby. Did you ever hear anything that made you feel so _old?"_

"I think it's wonderful," Bea breathed, her eyes astar with secret dreams that would soon--very soon--have the chance to be fulfilled. "And Juliet, it's not as if you're going to be an old maid! Allan would marry you tomorrow if you wanted him to."

"No, Bea, he wouldn't! You know your brother better than that. Allan doesn't want to go to college but he _is_ doing that banking course in Charlottetown this winter. Then he'll come home and get some experience in the bank in Shrewsbury. Allan is determined we shan't get married until he's able to provide for me--and I'm determined we shan't until _I'm_ able to do the same for him."

"Speak of the devil," Bea said, as Allan opened the New Moon gate and ambled lazily down the lane. 

Juliet's breath caught in her throat the way it did each time she saw Allan. How handsome he was! The sun glinted off of his blond hair--still cut close to the scalp from his time in the army. He was tall--but not so tall that she got a crick in her neck looking up at him--and he moved with the easy, careless grace of a tiger. His face was speckled boyishly with freckles but his strong jaw showed that he was a man--her man--her Allan! Juliet leapt from the porch swing where she and Bea had been lazily rocking and flew to him, meeting him in the lane with a kiss. 

"I'm off," Bea said with a smile. "I know when three's a crowd. You'd think _you_ two were the ones getting married tomorrow, not me!" 

"Oh, Bea," Juliet said. "Don't go--I'm sorry--we've gotten all of the kissing out of our system. If you stay we'll be good, old, platonic, friendly Allan and Juliet." 

"Speak for yourself!" said Allan in a mock growl, coming up behind Juliet and circling his hands around her waist. 

"No," Bea laughed. "I really must go. Mother's taking me to the dressmaker's for one last fitting. Bye-bye, you two. Allan, see you later at home."

Bea banged the front gate and skipped home, looking for all the world like a girl half her age. 

"I can't believe that this time tomorrow Bea will be someone's wife!" Juliet marveled. 

"Never mind that," Allan said seriously. "We have more important things to talk about."

"Like what?"

"Like have you really gotten all the kissing out of your system?"

Juliet smiled. "Never."

* * * 

Juliet and Allan hopped into his car and drove down the shore road. Juliet loved the feel of the wind in her long, loose hair and the sharp tang of the sea that was heavy in the air. "Let's stop!" she cried to Allan, and he pulled off the road. Slipping and sliding and hand in hand they made their way down the sandy cliffs into a little cove among the dunes, a hollow, sturdy place that had been carved out by the buffeting of the wind. 

Allan took his fisherman's sweater and wrapped it around Juliet's shoulders. Then he drew her near to him. They stayed that way for a long while before Allan finally spoke. 

He said, "I can't believe it."

"That Bea's getting married tomorrow?" Juliet queried. 

"That you're leaving in two days." Allan's handsome face was troubled. "It seems like I just got back and already we're being separated again."

"You're leaving in two days, too," Juliet reminded him. "For Charlottetown."

"But it's only Charlottetown, not Guelph. If you stayed home I could see you on the weekends."

"Allan!" Juliet pulled roughly away from him. "We've been over this a thousand times. I _want_ to go to school. If you want to be near me, come to Guelph and take classes there."

"They don't _offer_ those classes at Guelph, Juliet."

"Well, study something else! No one says you have to be a banker!"

"And no one says you have to go to school! What are you going to do with a degree in history? We'll just get married--and have children--and it'll sit on a shelf and gather dust. All that money and time apart--and that's what will come of it!"

Juliet gasped. "You can't mean that! Is _that_ what you think? That all women get married and have children and everything else they aspired to goes right out the door? Is that what you think of me? Of my mother? Of _your_ mother? You think all women should only be interested in their home and nothing else?"

Allan's face was very red--except for the streak of white over his left eye that was the scar he'd gotten in the war. "No, I don't really think that about _all_ women. But I think it's a damn fool thing to for _you_ to go to college--and a waste of money," he said. "You're fickle, Juliet--you have a thousand different interests and you start a thousand different projects and none of them get done. This is the same thing--you'll be home by Christmastime with another big plan." 

"Then why do you care if I go?" Juliet shouted, standing. She threw his sweater at his feet and pulled her way back up the sand cliffs. She ran to the car and started it, dashing hot tears from her eyes. She couldn't believe Allan would do this. _What_ had gotten into him? 

It was their first fight since he had come home from the war, and so it was an especially pointed, bitter thing. And Allan had started it! Juliet drove all the way home to New Moon, leaving him behind on the shore. Her mind whirled in a thousand different directions at once. Only one thought was clear: she was glad--_glad_--she was leaving. If this is the way Allan was going to be, then Juliet didn't want to be around him anymore!

* * * 

A/N: she's baaaaaaaack!

I missed Juliet so much! I really love this character and wanted to continue her story. So I'm going to be working on this _and_ Christmas at Ingleside. School's ending this week so I should have enough time to get both done and update them regularly. As always, please read and review!

I'm going to dedicate this story to those of you who gave me such confidence and helpful criticism in my first Juliet story, especially Terreis, anonymous327, marzoog and Miri. Also faerie5, Flailersrule and Gufa. And, well, ALL of you! Thanks so much! 


	2. Leaving Home

Bea's wedding the next day was a miserable ordeal for Juliet. But Bea was so glowing and radiant that she didn't notice. Juliet had lain awake all night after her fight with Allan and the terrible shadows under her eyes showed. Her face above the frilly pink bridesmaid dress Bea had chosen looked tired and worried and drawn. Aunt Ilse had nearly attacked her with face powder and rouge. 

David Walsh's own brother lived in California and at the last minute hadn't been able to come out and see his older sibling marry his girl-bride. So Allan served as David's best man. That meant he and Juliet had to walk down the aisle together--side by side. They stared straight ahead, like statues, the tips of Juliet's fingertips just barely touching the crook of Allan's arm. When she did look over at Allan she saw his face stubborn and serious in profile and her own features wrinkled in anger. He hadn't apologized--and he'd said once that he'd be damned if he were ever the one to apologize first. Juliet remembered those words and hardened her heart a little bit more. Well, she wouldn't apologize first, either! She'd done nothing wrong. Why _should_ she be expected to give up her studies when she became Allan's wife? _If_ she became Allan's wife. It wasn't fair. Men could do both--why couldn't she?

They two of them looked so unhappy that people in the congregation who watched them were amazed. Most people assumed correctly that they'd had a lover's quarrel, but horrible Rhonda Perlman went around saying that Juliet Kent was angry as a bear that Bea beat her to being married. When the last thing Juliet wanted at that moment was to get married! To anyone, much less to Allan. She'd stripped her left hand of his little diamond ring and left it sitting on her dresser at home. When Allan saw her naked, slender hand holding the little bouquet of mums his face darkened visibly but he wisely said nothing.

Some people were oblivious to anything wrong. "What a lovely couple," said sweet old Mrs. Myra Gray of Shrewsbury, coming up to them after the service where Juliet and Allan were standing in the receiving line, shoulders barely touching. "You two will have such beautiful children one day!"

The maid-of-honor and best man stared at her and each other with such fury and loathing that Mrs. Gray wondered to her dying day if she'd said something she shouldn't have. 

Bea and her new husband--husband! Bea had a husband?--took to the dance floor and waltzed, gazing happily into each other's eyes. The twinkling lights in the spacious hall glittered on her honey-colored hair and Juliet felt herself relax, watching them. Until she looked over and saw Allan dancing with Betty Walsh, the groom's cousin! How--_dare_--he! Juliet herself had been asked to dance by several men but had said no. Why had she never noticed how pretty Betty was? That shade of blue was really _right_ with her reddish hair and the velvet ribbon she'd tied around her throat made her neck look long and kissable. Juliet bit back a flush of angry tears. She _was_ mad at Allan--terribly mad--but he was still _her_ Allan. Wasn't he? For all that had happened she was still his Juliet. 

Even so, the next time that Rob Lewison asked her to dance, for old times' sake, Juliet said yes and put her slim white hand in his. And made sure that Allan saw them. 

* * * 

But Bea hadn't noticed any coldness. That was the best thing. "This is the best day of my life, darling," she'd said, holding Juliet close as the guests threw handfuls of rice at the bride and groom. "Thank you for being so wonderful!" 

Wonderful! Juliet immediately felt terrible. She'd done nothing but sulk since she'd seen Allan that morning, looking cheerful and unconcerned with anything! A wave of remorse washed over her. She'd been so furious she hadn't gotten a chance to enjoy Bea's wedding. Juliet squeezed Bea back and said, "I'm so happy for _you_, darling! May God give you many good years together!" She meant it with every bone in her body. 

And this morning Bea was gone--she and David had gone to New York to visit his Mother for a month and see the city while they were at it. And soon Juliet would be gone, too. Father was driving her to the airport at noon. Juliet opened her bags and did one last check--she wanted to make sure she had everything with her that she wanted to take to Guelph. 

It all was there. Juliet zipped her suitcases and stacked them by the front door. But she still felt something was missing. She went slowly back up to her room and picked up the little diamond ring that still lay on top of her dresser. 

She slipped it on her finger. No, that wouldn't do. It felt bulky and heavy, like an anchor holding her down. But she wouldn't--couldn't--leave it behind. Sighing, Juliet tucked the ring into her pocket. She went back downstairs and picked up the telephone and dialed Aunt Ilse and Uncle Perry's number. If Allan wouldn't apologize she _would_. She couldn't go away without making everything good between them--without one last kiss--!

Like it or not--and Juliet didn't--she couldn't leave without saying goodbye Allan.

* * * 

The phone rang and rang. Finally the operator came on the line. 

"Caller, it looks as if no one's home," she said. "Would you like me to disconnect you?"

"Yes--please," Juliet said dully. So Allan had already left for his banker's course in Charlottetown--or he'd forgotten that she, too, was leaving. She remembered the plans they'd made only days ago: Allan would take her out for a big breakfast before she left for Guelph, and give her one kiss for every day she'd be gone. That was over a hundred kisses to Christmas. Her knees had felt weak anticipating them and trembled at the memory of it now. 

"Juliet!" Father called from downstairs. "It's time to go--we don't want to miss your flight."

Well, if Allan had forgotten about her, then Juliet would forget about him. 

But she couldn't help blowing a surreptitious kiss in the direction of the Miller home as they pulled out of the driveway. 

* * * 

The Charlottetown airport was a bustling, noisy whirl of people. Father and Juliet checked her bags and then Teddy Kent walked his girl to the boarding gate. 

"It makes me nervous, the thought of you getting into that big flying machine, Jewel," he said. "But I wouldn't be surprised if you could sprout your own wings and flew over there. Nothing you do surprises me--yet everything does. College girl--college girl! How proud my Mother would have been to know you, Juliet."

"Grandmother Aileen?" Juliet wondered. At New Moon they talked often of Aunts Elizabeth and Laura and Mother's own Mother, whom Juliet had been named for, but they seldom talked of Father's Mother. The only thing Juliet knew about her was that she had died before the twins were born--before even Teddy and Emily were married. 

"Yes, Grandmother Aileen. She was a strange woman, Juliet, but one of her great joys was reading--absorbing--learning! I do hope you'll remember her while you're studying--that she would have given everything she loved in the world to be where you are now."

"I will remember," Juliet said, fighting back tears. 

"And remember her, too, when you're going out to sock hops and parties." Father's eyes twinkled mischeviously. "She didn't have much fun in her life, Juliet, and I think she'd appreciate if you had some in remembrance of her!"

"I will that, too," Juliet promised. "Oh, Father, I'll try to make you and Mother proud!"

"You have already," Father said, and took his girl up in a warm embrace. 

"A strange girl," Teddy Kent reflected as his daughter walked toward the gate where her flight was boarding. "A hearty, strong girl--and yet so delicate and ephemeral. So much like her mother--but there's a little of me, there, too. Oh, I hope the world will treat her well! I hope it does!"

* * * 

Juliet's gloved hand fished in her bag for her ticket. She could see the colored corner of the paper folder it was in peeking up but it was buried beneath her wallet and her books and everything else. "Just one minute," she laughed to the stewardess, who looked bored and slightly annoyed, her hand outstretched. 

"Juliet!" 

She whirled and the ticket was forgotten. "Allan! Oh, I thought you had _forgotten_ me!"

"Never," Allan avowed, holding her and pulling her close. "I almost didn't come out of sheer stubbornness but I wouldn't have forgotten. My stomach was gnawing all morning with nervousness at the thought of not seeing you again before you leave! You darling girl I didn't sleep a wink at all last night. What call had you to look so cozy with Rob Lewison?"

"Me!" Juliet giggled. "You were looking so love-sick over Betty Walsh that I thought you'd been struck dumb. I danced with Rob as a little payback--what call had _you_ to be so jealous?" 

"I never had a love affair with Betty Walsh," Allan said hotly, but he was smiling. "As I remember it, Rob Lewison once, in the not too-distant past, asked to _marry_ you! Imagine him thinking he could have my Juliet! When all my life you've been promised to me--and I to you."

Their lips met in a sweet kiss. The last boarding call for Juliet's flight was announced over a loudspeaker. 

"Darling," said Allan, gathering her hands in his own and kissing them. "Go get on your plane and go to Guelph and learn all you can from the hallowed halls of history. And then come and teacher them to your ignorant, banker husband-to-be. I'm sorry about what I said. You can do anything you want when we are married--you can teach--you can write books like your mother--you can be a banker, too, if you want! The one thing you cannot do is run away and join the circus because I'd shrivel up and die without you. I just--didn't want you to go. I'll miss you--too much."

"I'll miss you, too," Juliet said. She reached into her pocket and gave her little ring to Allan, who grinned and slipped it on the proper finger. 

"One day we'll fight and you'll take this off and lose it," Allan grinned. "But no matter--I'll be a rich banker and be able to buy you a new one."

"I wouldn't want a new one," Juliet said firmly. "I wouldn't want a horrendous monstrosity of a ring like Bea's. How does she keep her hand up? Oh, Allan, I love this ring--and I love you!"

They kissed again and the impatient flight attendant who had been waiting for Juliet all this time clucked her tongue in annoyance. They broke apart and Juliet fished her ticket out of her bag, finally, and was led down a long corridor to her seat on the waiting plane. She touched her lips and smiled all through the safety lecture and didn't even notice as the plane soared up through the magnificent clouds. 

"I hate fighting with Allan," she murmured to herself. "But oh, he does make it up beautifully. If only we could make up _all_ the time--without the fighting!"


	3. Familiar Faces

Juliet managed to pull her head out of the clouds in time to catch the magnificent descent of the plane into the Toronto airport. She was only a _little_ nervous. Suppose--anything happened? Suddenly the idea of a two-ton piece of machinery surging through the air seemed too, too ridiculous! Of course they would crash! How could they not? Juliet bit her nails and tried enjoy the lovely colors of the afternoon sun that blazed through the window. 

"Is this your first time in a plane, dearie?" said the wizened old woman next to her, looking utterly relaxed. "Have a peppermint, there's a good girl."

Juliet balled the offending peppermint up in her first and thanked the old woman politely, all the while seething inside. She must be brave! She was almost a grown woman--how embarrassing to be caught acting like a small frightened child. 

The plane landed gracefully, without even a bump, like a bird alighting on a branch. And Juliet was pushed along with the rest of the crowd into the teeming airport. How busy it was! How could there be this many people in Toronto coming and going all at once?

She found her bags almost immediately and stood to the side, looking around. The sight of so many face--and not one of them familiar--filled her with slight panic. Juliet knew what she had to do next: get a taxi and ride out to Doug and Bella's. But where would she get a taxi? Who should she ask? "Excuse me," she called out to a woman in a fantastic fur stole who was passing by, but the woman kept on without even a backward glance. "Sir!" Juliet tried again, trying to catch the attention of a man in a business suit. He stopped and looked at her questioningly. 

"Do you know where I can get a taxi?"

The man shrugged his shoulders apologetically and hurried on. Juliet sat down on the top of her trunk and hid her face in her hands. How hard would it be to get back on a plane and turn around and go home? She had been mad to think of going away to school. Why hadn't she simply gone to Redmond to do a course in Home Management? She could have been near to home and seen Allan on the weekends

Something Father had said about Grandmother Aileen crept back into her consciousness: _She would have given everything she loved in the world to be where you are now. _"I don't believe that," Juliet murmured. "She may have _thought_ she wanted to go away to school but she never actually had to leave home!" Still, the thought of long-dead Grandmother Aileen gave Juliet the strength to stand up and gather her bags and make her way toward the entrance of the terminal. 

Something she saw there made her stop and drop her bags in surprise and delight. A familiar slender form in a familiar blue jacket--how the other girls in Four Winds envied that blue velvet jacket--a head of sandy brown curls--a sweet, unassuming face--!

"Trudy!" Juliet cried, waving her arms to get her friend's attention. "Trudy Ford--what are you doing here?"

The two girls from the Island flew toward each other and met in an embrace. The girls hadn't been the best of friends at home--Juliet was much closer to Trudy's cousin Joy--but here in the Toronto airport she was more glad to see Trudy than she'd been to see anyone else on earth, ever before. Except maybe Allan, on that sweet day he'd come home from the war. Juliet and Trudy clung to each other like drowning sailors, both of them talking at once. 

"Oh Juliet," Trudy said, nearly sobbing in relief. "I'm so glad to see you! My plane got in two hours ago and since then I've been sitting by the baggage pick-up crying and trying to think of what to do next. I only just made my way outside. I was sure I was going to get lost or trampled fighting my way through these crowds!"

"I heard your father say you were going to university but I had no idea it was Guelph!" Juliet clasped the other girl's hands in excitement. "Trudy, where are you headed now?"

"Oh, Juliet!" Trudy's eyes looked big and wide and scared. "I have to get a taxi into Guelph--and spend the night at a boarding house. I'm so nervous--my heart is going like a freight train--I don't want to spend the night among strangers. I've never spent a night anywhere other than Ingleside--or the House of Dreams--or Green Gables!"

"Get your bag," Juliet said decidedly. "And follow me. You _aren't_ going to spend the night in a boarding house, Trudy--you're coming with me to Bella and Doug's. In the morning we'll go together to the university and get our room assignments."

"Oh, Juliet!" Again, tears of assuagement sprang up Trudy's eyes. "I'd love that! But--do you think Bella and Doug would mind?" 

"Not at all," Juliet said. "They'll be glad to see a face from home and Bella will love the chance to show off her home-making skills. Now, Trudy, stop that almost-crying you're doing and don't worry about that boarding house anymore. We've got more important things to worry about--we need to hail a taxi. How do we do that, I wonder? Should we wave our arms and jump up and down or shout, too, to make sure the driver sees us?"

* * * 

"You're here!" A hugely pregnant Bella flew with surprising grace down the footpath to meet the taxi when it pulled up. "Here!" she handed money to the driver and pulled Juliet from the car and up into an easy hug. 

"Father gave me money to pay--" Juliet began but was silenced by another hug from Bella. 

"Nonsense!" she laughed. "Keep it--Doug and I have enough and you're a poor college student. You can buy one of those college scarves with it. Oh, Juliet, I've missed you!" There was another almost smothing hug.

Trudy got their bags from the car and stood shyly aside, waiting for Bella to acknowledge her. 

"And you've brought a friend!" Bella laughed. "Trudy Ford--how good it is to see a face from home! Of _course_ you're welcome here--always! Don't start with protestations and don't thank me. Come inside, you poor lambs--wasn't the trip here tiring? You must be ready for a nap--you can snooze while I finish dinner. Come and see the house! You'll love it--I know I do."

The girls did love the house--a little stone cottage with a gently sloping red roof and two little towers on either side that jutted up like flags. It was the perfect home for Bella and Doug--it seemed like it was built just for them. There were lots of bright, airy windows and hidden nooks in which one could sit and read. Juliet felt that she knew now why Hilary Gordon, who had designed it, was considered on of Canada's top architects. Bella had them stow their suitcases and trunks in one of the tower rooms and led them down to the kitchen--and there was Doug, sitting at the table. Juliet gave a small cry and flew into her brother's arms. The twins stood like that for a long moment, and the sense of loss that each had been feeling at being apart for so long was cancelled out. The feeling of unity and wholeness was restored. 

"Doug!" Juliet cried, with tears rolling down her cheeks. "I've missed you more than I can say! How good--good--it is to be with you again. I know now why people say that twins should never be separated."

How old Doug looked, in his suit and tie! As if he were years older than Juliet when in fact he was almost four minutes younger! He looked every bit the distinguished professor of agriculture he was. Juliet felt daunted for a moment--she would start at Guelph tomorrow as a student--but Doug was already a teacher. She felt young and awkward, the way she'd felt the whole year she was twelve and hadn't stopped growing and was all arms and legs. But then he smiled and ruffled her hair and Juliet relaxed. Yes, he was still the same warm, loving brother she'd always had--the same old Doug. 

Trudy and Juliet wanted to help Bella with supper but she wouldn't hear of it. The girls napped on a sofa in the parlor and woke up feeling marvelously refreshed. They had a lovely, gay supper in the elegant dining room. Bella was certainly a gracious hostess!

"Tell me about everything that's going on, Trudy," she said. "Priest Pond is closer to Four Winds than it is to Shrewsbury, and I want to know what's going on at home--somehow that still seems like home to me. Although I'd rather be here with Doug than anyplace else on earth. Did Mary Douglas's mums win first prize at Exhibition again this year? And how is your family? No news from home would be complete without the detailed goings-on of the Blythe and Meredith and Ford clans!"

Trudy talked easily about her family. It seemed that Jem Blythe would be coming home to take over her Grandfather's practice. Everyone was still getting over the elder Dr. Blythe's death and it was hard--especially since they were still grieving about Owen. Trudy's lip trembled when she talked about her brother who had died in the war, but she quickly changed the subject to happier tidings. Joy's own baby was due in the spring. And Trudy's younger sister was engaged to be married!

"Hannah engaged!" Bella breathed. "To whom? Isn't she only just sixteen?"

An uncomfortable silence fell around the table. Bella had been too busy planning her own wedding when Hannah Ford's romance had been much-talked about at home. Doug looked over at Juliet, who was concentrating intently on the piece of roast she was cutting into impossibly small bits. Trudy flushed red and looked embarrassed. 

"Hannah's engaged to Blair King," she said hastily. "Only she's not _really_ engaged. Mother won't let her until she's done with high school. She doesn't even have a ring. I guess she and Blair have just talked a bit about it."

"How's my old pal Allan?" Doug interjected, seeing a red haze of embarrassment come up over Juliet's cheeks. "Has he changed any since last I saw him? He's promised to come over for a visit as soon as he gets a break from his own classes--he sounds subdued, Juliet, which I guess the war has done to him. How is he, really?"

Juliet shot her brother a grateful look. "He's fine--really," she said, feeling her hot cheeks start to cool. "A bit weary and war-torn around the edges--but I guess we all expected that. He has a scar over his left eye, but it's small--no bigger than my little finger. But Doug--he _does_--look so old. Not that he's wrinkled or hairless or anything," Juliet laughed. "But--there's something in his face that makes me feel that he's aged double the years that I have during the war."

She gave a pretty little sigh and Bella patted her hand. 

"It does seem like sometimes the entire world getting older but that I'm staying the same," she mused. "I saw Father last month, Juliet--and he looked so _old_. I mean, he's always been old--he was over fifty when I was born. But he never _seemed_ old to me. Now he looks like such an old, old man!" 

Juliet nodded. It was just the other day that she'd noticed silver in the dark hair around her own father's temples and her heart had been shaken to the core. Mother still looked like a girl. What was it Uncle Dean had said to her the other day?

"Star, you seem to have found the elixir that Ponce de Leon spent his whole life looking for. If you've found the Fountain of Eternal Youth, won't you please be a dear and let the rest of us in on the secret?"

Yes, Mother still looked young. But there were lines around Aunt Ilse's eyes--just the tiniest, finest spiderweb of lines--and Uncle Perry was going bald! He was very sensitive about it. Juliet felt a chill as she looked into the flame of the flickering candle on the table. When she was younger it had seemed that the years passed impossibly slowly. Now, how they flew by! She gazed around the table and saw how each one of them would look when they were old. 

"Juliet--Juliet!" Trudy laughed. "Where are you wandering? Come back to us!"

As an old woman Trudy Ford would have silvery hair and kind, deep eyes. Juliet shook her head to clear the picture, and remembered a funny anecdote that had happened on the plane. An old men dropped his ticket, and bent down to pick it up, and there was a tremendous ripping sound as he split the seat of his pants! He'd grabbed onto his rear end with both hands and high-tailed it to his seat. She told the story now and lightness and humor were restored to the happy group around the table. 

* * * 

"Juliet," Trudy whispered when they were tucked into the double bed in the tower room. Bella had puttered around them for what seemed like hours--putting on such maternal airs that it was hard for the girls not to laugh. But it would have been a tender, loving laugh. Bella was a married lady with a baby on the way--she had a right to put on airs. 

"Hmm?" Juliet stretched and snuggled more deeply into the covers. The night had turned chilly. Still, she had the window open a crack. Juliet could not sleep without the sound of the wind and such nice little winds swirled around the tower. 

"I'm sorry I mentioned Blair King, at dinner. Are you mad at me, dear? I was in love with Jake Penhallow for a year--a whole year!--when I was ten, and it _still_ rankled when Joy married him this summer. But you don't care a whit about Blair anymore, do you? You've got Allan."

"Trudy, darlingest of all Fords, I couldn't care any less," Juliet laughed. "I'm happy as a clam with my Allan--and I only hope Hannah will be as happy with Blair--though I don't think anyone could be quite as happy as Allan and I. I don't mind at all--and I'm not mad. Now get some sleep!"

She waited until the sound of Trudy's breathing slowed and her eyes closed, and then Juliet crept out of bed and to the window that overlooked the dark, sleeping city. 

For once in her life Juliet wished her gift of second sight would come at will. She wished right now that she could see into her college years to all the adventures that awaited her. What a useless talent that was! She wanted to know _now_. 

"But I suppose it's for the best," Juliet whispered. "I _do_ like surprises. And it's not like I have long to wait before I start! Oh, I can't wait for tomorrow!" 

* * * 

Thanks for the reviews, all of you! They really make my day. 

Faerie5: I definitely plan on spending more time talking about Doug and Bella--and perhaps Blair King will pop up somewhere? *winks*

Miri: No, Allan doesn't resemble either of his parents much, but not _all_ children do. I think we've seen that he's slightly argumentative, which he could get from either Ilse or Perry! Bea does take a lot after Ilse though. I think that maybe Allan _is_ a lot like his parents in certain ways, but a bot more subdued because of the war. More about that, later, though

Gufa: You're right. I do like weddings--probably because I was married myself earlier this year and I have them on the brain. Also, there seem to be weddings in most LMM books, especially the Anne books, and I love how she writes them! I guess I wanted to try my hand at that, too. 

Terreis: I don't like it when Allan and Juliet fight, either, but they are always surprising me and doing it anyway. I can't promise that there won't be any more fights. But I promise that when there are, they will always make them up beautifully. All of LMM's couples are so sweet and get along purrr-fectly and never fightI suppose I wanted Allan and Juliet to be as sweet as Gilbert and Anne or Pat and Hilary--but a little more realistic. I mean, people _do _fight. 

Anyway, enjoy the chapter. Sorry for not updating in so long, but I had a paper to write (last of the semester) and it's done now! Yay! So more on both of my stories. 


	4. A Guelph Girl!

Doug drove Trudy and Juliet to the campus the next day in his car. They had been up bright and early with Bella, deciding what to wear on their first day of school, and he had been woken up and dragged in to give his opinion on what it was that college girls were wearing. Trudy had decided on a green dress and little shoes with the most enchanting buckles. Or so the girls all seemed to think. They were just buckles to Doug. Although Trudy did look well. And Juliet glowed in her white angora sweater and navy skirt. Both girls had bits of red and yellow ribbon--the college colors--pinned to their jackets. 

Doug pointed out the important features of the university to the girls, who thrilled at them. Trudy had a little Kodachrome and insisted on taking pictures of everything she saw. "I told Mother I'd tell her about _everything_," Trudy said staunchly when they laughed at her. 

"Well get your camera ready," Doug said, pointed out a tall, turreted building. 'That's the library."

__

Snap! went the camera. Then Trudy, who was doing a course in literature, groaned. "I suppose I'll be spending a lot of time there."

"And on your right, Juliet, is the history building," said Doug. 

Juliet looked at it--just a plain brown-brick building to everyone else, but to her it was the doorway to a new realm of possibility. She touched the glass and smiled a secret little smile. She could already see herself there, bent over her books, reading about a war that had already been fought or a life that had already been lived. She shivered with excitement and anticipation.

"And there," Doug said, turning onto Watson Lane, "is Watson Hall--the most prestigious dorm on campus. "Students fight over who gets to live there--it has the best view of the city. Sorry girls--freshies almost never get to live there."

It was an old, old building, made of the same brown brick as the library and history building, but so covered with ivy that it looked as if it had grown up out of the ground. Juliet smiled. 

"_We're_ going to live there," she said. "I can feel it in my bones--that old place looks like home."

"Really?" Trudy squealed.

Doug laughed. "Oh, Juliet! _Sure_ you are."

She just smiled, and when the girls got their room assignments Juliet waved hers triumphantly like a flag. She _was_ in room 414 in Watson Hall. 'The tower room!" said the girl who handed Juliet her schedule. "Freshmen almost _never_ get to live in Watson, much less the tower room! You're a lucky girl, Miss Kent!"

But even better was the name of her roommate! Juliet would be sharing a suite with two girls with the last name of Burns and--

"Gertrude Olivia Ford!" she cried and she and Trudy jumped up and down. "What are the odds?"

"I am going to love college," Juliet murmured as she accepted her key and crossed the campus toward her dorm. "I am going to _love_ it!"

* * * 

__

and oh, Allan, our room is so light and airy! It's got windows on both sides so its flooded with light all day. There's a little black heater with a chimney going up through the roof that looks like a small black terrier, so jaunty and ready to pounce. I almost expect it to wag its tail. Without thinking I reached over and gave it a pat--and burnt my hand horribly! I hardly noticed, though, I'm so excited. 

Trudy claimed the bed by the door, and I chose the one by the window. None of the other girls wanted it because there is a slight draft--but I don't mind. A draft in the night is such a ghostly, mysterious thing, and I'll be warm as a bug in a rug with all the blankets I brought with me! Mother gave me one--so did Aunt Ilse--and Aunt Elizabeth a third. So let all the drafts in the world blow around me--I'll be warm. Alice said that she didn't mind drafts but that a student who'd pushed her bed up to the window fell out in the night_ years and years ago-- went right through the glass--and tumbled to the ground. And died, apparently! I just fixed her with a scornful look when she said that and told her it was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard. I may not have known Alice for more than a day, but already I can tell when she's lying--she's rather like Rhonda Perlman from home, who'll say anything to get a rise out of people. _

But I'm getting ahead of myself! You don't even know who Alice is, yet. 

When Trudy and I came up to our room we stood and gawked for a while--and admired the view--and gazed out of our windows and waved to people passing below. A placard on the door said, MISS JULIET KENT, MISS GERTRUDE FORD, MISS ALICE BURNS, and MISS GRETA BURNS. We only could assume that the Burns girls were sisters. It's not that_ common a name. They hadn't shown up yet so Trudy and I set to work cleaning the room and unpacking our things. _

(Oh, Allan, darling, Trudy got so mad to see 'Gertrude' on the placard on the door. She hates her name though she loves her aunt Gertrude Oliver Grant, whom she is named for. She took a penknife and scratched through 'Gertrude' and then put up 'Trudy.' I know we will probably get in trouble for it later, but I have been itching to scratch out 'Juliet' and put up 'Julie.' No one knows me here--I could_ take a whole new name and people would never know the difference. Although I like _my_ name and I don't know if I feel like a Julie. What do you think, darling? Would you like that as a nickname for me?)_

The Burns girls hadn't shown up by dinnertime so Trudy and I locked the room and ventured across campus to the dining hall. The food isn't nearly as terrible as I thought it would be, but I did think of the well-stocked kitchen at New Moon with a pang. When we came back to Watson we looked up and saw a golden light shining out of our tower and people moving around up there--the Burns girls had arrived!

Trudy and I burst in the room and then stopped dead. On one of the unoccupied beds lay a girl reading, a stack of boxes untouched around her. Another girl was stripping my just-made bed by the window of its blankets and tossing them onto the floor. A record player was blaring swing music so loudly that the people from downstairs were banging on the ceiling for us to turn it off. 

"What is going on here?" I said to the girl who was rearranging my things in my best imitation of the Murray tone of voice. 

"Oh, hi," said the girl. "I'm Alice. Alice Burns. I'm just situating my things. And you are?" The terrible creature actually had the nerve to offer me her hand!

"I'm Juliet Kent," I said through gritted teeth. "And perhaps you haven't noticed, but someone else's things were already set up on this bed?"

"Yeah," the girl--Alice--said. "But you see, I've got_ to have the bed by the window._" 

__

She kept right on replacing my things with her own. Although she did pick my bed linens up off the floor and dumped them unceremoniously on the other bed. If Alice had had a valid reason for sleeping near the window, I might have listened to her. But she didn't offer one so I hardened my heart and stared at her like one would an insect. She reached down and picked up a framed snapshot of you, Allan dearest, that I'd put on my nightstand. 

"Cute," she said. "But I bet I can take him from you."

She gave me a saucy smile at that. I was so red with anger that I could hear the blood zinging through my ears. Before I knew what I was doing I reached down and grabbed her wrist--I didn't hurt her--but I held it firmly enough so that she would know I meant business. 

"I'm sorry, Alice," I said politely--but coldly, and Trudy says, a deadly look in my eyes. "But these are my things. This is my bed. Check-in time was at two o'clock. Trudy and I were here then and you and Greta were not, so we got first pick of the beds. I'm sorry but that's only fair. Now, if you please, I'd appreciate it if you remade my bed for me."

Alice looked at me, and it was then I noticed how beautiful she really is. She has hair like cornsilk down to her waist, and eyes the color of violets--but her mouth was twisted into an ugly sneer. She did_ remake my bed for me, though, and moved her own things to an empty one with a very unladylike 'harrumph.'_

The other girl--the one who had been reading on the bed--watched the whole exchange with worried eyes. "I'm Greta," she whispered, looking up at me. 

I could tell she was afraid of Alice. How terrible, to be afraid of your own sister!

Tthen it struck me--it seemed to strike me and Trudy at the same time. Greta's hair was the same color blond but it was bobbed--her eyes were the same color blue, behind her spectacles. "You're twins!" Trudy cried delightedly. "Identical twins, how fun! Juliet is a twin, too!"

"Really?" Greta smiled. She really does have the most bewitching, husky little voice--Alice's is shrill and she has flat vowels like a Yankee even though she and her sister are from Toronto. 

"You mean there are two_ of _you_?" Alice asked meanly. "My, my!"_

"Actually, I have a twin brother_," I corrected her. "His name is Douglas. He teaches here."_

"Oh, you're fraternal_ twins_." _Alice shook her head. "That doesn't count at all."_

I honestly don't know if I can get through the semester without killing her. 

But Greta is wonderful. Trudy and I took her to the canteen later for a party with the rest of the freshies. Greta is going to be studying botany--she's already signed up for Doug's Introduction to Agricultural Theory class--and is excited about it! I only signed up for it because Doug is teaching, and because I need a class to fill the science prerequisite. 

We met some very lovely people: Evelyn, who plays the flute and has the most gorgeous green eyes I have ever seen, Carolina, a Yankee, from the Deep South, with the thickest accent I've ever heard, and Sabrine, from Montreal, who's studying to be an actress. Oh, and so many more, Allan, but I'm too tired to write all about that now. It's past midnight--I have my first class in eight hours--I'm so tired right now that I'm even thinking of giving Alice a chance. She does_ look sweet now, asleep. But I have the most unholy urge to draw a thick moustache on her upper lip with my eye pencil!_

Goodnight, darling! I'm looking out at the moon--somehow when I think that the same moon is shining down on you--and New Moon--I don't feel so far away from home at all. 

Love, 

Your Juliet

P.S. Allan, of course I met some boys_ tonight at the party too, but they were nothing compared to you! I thought so little of them--romantically, anyway--that I didn't want to even mention them! Although several of them were awfully jolly--and would be awfully nice to have as _friends_. xoxoxoxo._


	5. Juliet Makes a Decision

Juliet found that, despite Alice's pointed little barbs and her tendency to blare music at all hours of the day and night, she _did_ love college. Oh, yes, she was homesick for the first few days, but after that there was just so much to do that she didn't have time to feel sad!

She spent a great deal of time going out with Trudy, Greta, and Carolina, and Evelyn and Sabrine. Guelph was a small town and there wasn't a lot to do, but somehow anything Juliet did with that group of girls seemed fun. Even a study date would turn into a rip-roaring good time, with Evelyn gossiping about boys while Sabrine predicted what her life would be like once she was a famous movie star. She was _quite_ sure she would be. Greta told jokes in her husky little voice that were so decidedly unfunny that the girls just had to laugh and give her impulsive kisses on the cheek. Carolina did impressions of the people she knew back in Virginia that had them all in stitches. Once they had gone into Toronto for an evening show and missed the late train, and slept all night in the train station, singing songs and watching other people go by. 

It was hard for Juliet to believe she'd only known them for a few weeks! 

She had dinner at Bella and Doug's at least once a week. Bella, whom Juliet had thought _couldn't_ get any bigger _did_, and Juliet's excitement at the baby's soon arrival mounted with the rest. Bella had prepared a little nursery in the other tower room, all pink and white and sunny yellow. After dinner, over dessert, they sat around and discussed names. 

"How about Rosalind?" 

"Oh, Juliet, could you imagine? Surrounded by a field of Saras and Janes? _Rosalind_?"

"Cordelia, then!"

"Why don't we just name her Goneril? What's with your fixation on Shakesperean names? They're so heavy and cumbersome on the tongue."

"Doug!" Juliet laughed impatiently. "_I_ have a Shakespearean name. Ever heard of a little play called _Romeo and Juliet_?"

"Oh." Doug blinked. "I suppose you have. But that's _different_."

Speaking of _Romeo and Juliet_. Juliet Kent was the toast of the drama club after the fall production of it. Oh, no, she wasn't Juliet Capulet--that part went to Sabrine, of course--but she gave a spirited and enthusiastic rendition of the nurse. Most of the other girls wouldn't accept the part of the fat, unglamorous nurse. But Juliet--she didn't even mind the warts, and pranced dolefully and self-righteously around on the stage. Juliet knew it was wrong but she modeled the character on what she remembered about Aunt Ruth Dutton, who'd died when she was ten, and had always called her a "weedy, impudent child--but what could you expect from Em'ly's daughter?" If the mother was "sly and deep," Aunt Ruth thought, so would the daughter be, too. 

All the while she was playing the part she knew it was un-Murrayish to poke fun at her ancestors. But Mother and Father, who made a special trip up for opening night, recognized Juliet's impression and laughed. Mother tried to scold her later but her eyes were sparkling so that the sting was quite gone out of it.

It may sound like Juliet spent all of her time having fun, but she remembered what Father had told her about Grandmother Aileen and put just as much effort into her work as she did into her leisure. She wrote a paper about the wives of Henry VIII that was the talk of the history department. It was predicted that next year, Juliet Kent would be at the top of the graduating class of history majors. She did well in all of her classes--even algebra--except she _didn't_ do well in Doug's History of Agriculture class. She got only a "satisfactory" mark on her final report. She was dearly angry with Doug for almost a week over not getting mid-term honors--even Alice Burns got mid-term honors! But then Juliet came to her senses and realized that she hadn't deserved anything more than a "satisfactory" mark in that class--perhaps not even that! After reviewing some old papers she was deliriously grateful to Doug for not failing her. 

* * * 

Juliet felt terrible for neglecting her friendship with Bea during the past weeks, until she remembered that Bea had been in New York the whole time. _Then_ Juliet was peeved at _her_--she didn't even drop a line on a postcard to let Juliet know how she was doing! But towards the end of the month the Walshes were due home--and like clockwork, on the first day of November she received a fat, juicy letter from Bea!

She loved being married, it appeared. There were a few lines about David, how nice he was, how handsome, and sweet, and then pages and pages on New York, the clothes Bea had bought, and how she planned to decorate her new house--right down to a lengthy description of the paper she had ordered from the parlor. Bea even included some swaths of paper so that Juliet could pick the paper for the guest room. "Because you're going to be our first guest, won't you, sweetheart? Do say you'll come and stay when you come home for Christmas!"

Juliet wrote back right away and accepted the offer--and sent back her pick for the paper in that room. All of them were very Aunt Ilse-ian designs--pink and purple sunset clouds--a pattern of garish red and yellow roses--even a paper patterned with bright orange goldfish! The lovely, muted, blue and cream pattern of bluebells _must_ have slipped in by mistake. _That_ was the one Juliet chose. 

And oh, it appeared that David's mother didn't like Bea because she turned around and caught Bea sticking her tongue out at her back. "Blind as a bat and can't see what's in front of her but she can tell I was sticking my tongue out at her?" Bea wrote despairingly. "Well--I was."

The last few lines of the letter made Juliet smile. 

__

"Do you see all the inked over spots in this letter, darling? I keep picking up my pen to write you some bit of gossip about some boy over here in Harmony or ask you what the college men are like. Then I remember--we're finito with that topic of conversation--I'm married and you're with Allan. Juliet--doesn't it seem sad_ that we can't talk about boys anymore?" _

Aye, verily, Juliet could have told Bea a few things about college boys. For one, that they were persistent. Juliet was amazingly pretty for a freshie with her long, swinging black hair and snapping eyes. There was a game that boys played in that day--they went around and "rated" all of the freshmen girls. The boys took one look at Greta's freckles and pronounced her a "bookworm." Trudy was "sweet." Alice was "gorge"--a horribly shortened slang for "gorgeous." Although Juliet thought it was definitely apropos--just a few minutes with Alice left her feeling stuffed and sick. Juliet herself was pronounced "cute" and became so angry with them that she lectured them for an hour on the fact that women were people, not objects. Then the boys changed their minds and voted her a "firebrand!" All of the other girls shared her opinion that this game was demeaning--and Alice pretended to, but she secretly kept a diary of all of the things the boys said about her. 

Word had spread through campus that she was engaged but it didn't stop the men-folk from trying anyway. At a recent sock hop she'd been nice and danced on dance with Andrew Lesley--and then he'd kept coming back to her all night! Juliet was afraid she'd never be rid of him. She tried to catch Trudy's eye across the room and said to Andrew, who was trying to think of some new sweet nothings to whisper in her ear, "Let's switch partners with Trudy! She can show you that new dance step. Come on!"

Juliet couldn't see who Trudy was dancing with but she knew it must be better than this Lesley character! "Switch partners," she gasped, shoving Andy at Trudy, and taking her place in front of a tall boy with dark, unruly curls. 

And then her knees felt weak and she realized who she was dancing with. 

"Blair!" she stammered. "I--I--"

"Just threw yourself at me," Blair King grinned. "Juliet, I had no idea you felt so passionately about me! That's just a joke," he said when she grimaced. "I know if you had known it was me you would never have come over." 

"No, I wouldn't have," Juliet admitted. "I had no idea you were coming to Guelph, Blair!" 

"I decided at the last minute," he said. "I want to do a course in journalism, maybe follow in Dad's footsteps."

"It must be hard for Hannah to have you so far away," she said lightly. 

Blair's face darkened. Two could play this game! "And for Allan, too," he said, just as lightly. "Unless he's going to pop out of the woodwork and trounce me for even _thinking_ of dancing with his girl."

"He would," said Juliet, raising her chin. 

"He'd _try_," Blair corrected her. "But he wouldn't stand a chance."

Juliet pulled away, her face burning. 

"Juliet, hey!" Blair caught up with her on the edges of the dance floor. "Listen--I'm sorry for what I said back there. And I'm sorry for what happened between us but we can't change the past. Can't we--at least--try to be friends? I've always thought you were a pearl of a girl."

"You said we couldn't be friends until you'd stopped loving me," Juliet taunted him, remebering that day they'd met in the market. 

"Well, I've stopped," said Blair simply. 

For some reason this was like a slap in the face. Juliet lifted her chin at an even higher angle and said nothing. But then--

"We can try," she said to Blair, in a dubious tone of voice that revealed her doubts. 

"Wonderful," he said, with a saucy smile of relief. "Now come back and dance."

They made light-hearted conversation and ever since had gone out several times--always in a group. The awkwardness they had felt was slowly falling away and Juliet had almost forgotten about the night she and Blair had met, at the White Sands dance so long ago--and the night they'd kissed on the shore. Sometimes she remembered it, and all the letters they'd written back and forth, and it was a shock--a shock that she could ever have felt that way about someone other than Allan!

Yes, she loved Allan with her whole heart and soul and mind. But even so--she did not write him that Blair was going to Guelph, too, and that they'd decided to be friends. It was something of a touchy subject between the two lovers. 

There were some things about her that even Allan did not need to know, and so Juliet ignored that little passage in a letter from Bea. She talked about the weather instead--was it as cold at home as it was getting to be here? 


	6. The Garden of Gethsemane

All the nights spent at sock hops and parties soon caught up with them all. The semester was winding down toward winter break and Juliet awoke one morning, feeling slightly panicked, amazed at all the end-of-term work she had to do! There was that field study for Doug's class--a book report in lit--an algebra final--and, most importantly, a presentation to do for history class. 

"Oh, how am I going to do it?" she moaned to Trudy as they stopped for coffee between classes. "I can remember every party I've been to all semester but I _can't_ remember a _thing_ about logarithms!" 

"How are any of us going to do it?" Trudy despaired. "Oh, Juliet, I had a dream last night that I was giving my final report on Millay in my poetry class--and I looked down--and I hadn't a stitch on! And Les Cunningham is in that class. I woke up feeling mortified as if it had really happened--then, when I went back to sleep, I _had the same dream again_!" 

"Trudy," Juliet promised seriously. "I swear on a stack of Bibles that I won't let you _leave_ the tower unless you are fully clothed. As long as you can tell me _something_ about fractals!" 

"I haven't the foggiest what a fractal even _is_," Trudy lamented. "_Or_ what class its for. I suspect its got something to do with math--and if it has--you should ask Blair. He's got a head for figures. And perk up, Juliet--no matter how badly we do on finals Alice is bound to do worse. I haven't seen her crack a book all semester. She was at Milly Lowbridge's party last night when she _should_ have been studying. She's got a history final due for the same class as you and she hasn't even _picked_ a topic yet."

Juliet had picked her topic long ago. One of the matriarchs of Guelph's most esteemed family, the Watsons--of Watson Hall fame--had hired Juliet to do a geneaology of the family. She'd given her old diaries, ledgers and notebooks, and in one of them Juliet had read the story of a young girl who's family had hidden escaped American slaves. They had been the final stop on the Underground Railroad--after their house, freedom!. It was a fascinating document. After Juliet had done more research she'd picked a final topic--she would write her report on Canada's influence on the American Civil war. She was actually excited about it, and couldn't wait to start writing it! Her fingers itched to pick up the old journal Mrs. Watson had lent her, but she made herself work on her other projects first. 

She even went to Blair for help with algebra and to her surprise found it really quite helpful. She could _almost_ understand quadratic equasions when Blair was done with her, and before she'd been like a sailor lost at see in a damp white fog. She was surprised at the way cheeky, out-going Blair slipped into a serious, forthright mode while teaching her. 

"You _should_ think about teaching," Juliet marveled. "You've really got a gift for it."

"I suppose I have," Blair said honestly. "But teaching doesn't interest me, Juliet. I hate kids--they're brats. And I'd rather do something I'm _not_ already good at--and make myself excel. I'm a terrible writer--but if I can conquer that, I can conquer anything. Anyone can be a teacher."

Juliet disagreed but said nothing. And she _wished_ she could forget those several times in the lesson when she had looked up after finshing a problem and been paralyzed by Blair's seeking gaze. 

Finally it was all done--the algebra exam, the paper for Doug on the benefits of earthworms to the plains agriculture, the book report on Eliot's _The Wasteland_ which she'd found vastly depressing. Juliet got out her notebooks and pens and books and blotter paper and sat down at her desk to work on her history report. 

She was still working when Greta came back from the library, and when Trudy came back from dinner with Carolina. She was still working when the other two girls finished their own studying and went to bed. Her hands were smudged and inky but she didn't even notice. Juliet felt possessed--by something _greater_ than herself. She did not know where all the words came from--they simply flowed from her fingertips onto the page. Juliet had never understood how Mother could sit up and write all night--but she did now! Line after line of black, forthright writing appeared on the page. Where _did_ it come from? She didn't feel like she had anything to do with it. 

She finished up her written draft and lugged her old typewriter out into the hall and was working away still when Alice came home well after midnight. Alice, in her filmy blue dress and matching scarf--she stopped for a moment and watched her, a funny, wistful look on her face. 

"What're you working on?" she queried. 

Juliet looked up in surprise although Alice had been there several minutes and hadn't exactly been quiet coming up to the door. It was as if she were in a trance. "History paper," she said curtly, wishing Alice would go away. 

"What are you writing it on?" Alice asked. _Why_ wouldn't she go away? "I haven't started mine yet." 

Juliet told her and Alice's eyes gleamed. 

"What are you looking at me that way for?" Juliet asked peevishly. 

"Nothing," Alice said admiringly. Alice--admiringly? "Only--you're so smart, Juliet. I wish I could be as smart as you. I know _I'll_ never think of anything half so good as your idea. It's an awfully good topic."

Juliet felt a flash of kinship spring up between her and Alice. Poor girl--she really did look so forlorn. 

"The only thing I'm really good at is going out and being social with people," Alice sighed. "But you don't know how many times I wish I could be a good student! I'd rather go out than do my work--not because I'm lazy--but because I know it won't be good. It's like a way of--escaping."

"Listen," Juliet said suddenly. "Alice, I know we haven't gotten along. But--I'll do anything I can to help you with your paper. All you have to do is ask."

"Wow!" Alice beamed down at Juliet. "That's really--very nice of you. I'd appreciate that. Even though I know it won't be anywhere _near_ as good as yours."

'We'll go to the library tomorrow," Juliet promised. After Alice had gone inside, she typed the last few lines of her paper in the solitude of the hallway and pulled the final page from the typewriter with a resounding _zip_! Then she stood up and danced a silent jig in the hallway, and--

--and kicked over a bottle of ink. A soggy black pool spread over her paper. Juliet held her head in her hands for a minute and sighed, then sat back down and retyped it again. No matter--this would give her a chance to correct some of the mistakes she hadn't seen before. She crawled into bed when the sun was just peeking up over the horizon. Trudy was curled into a little ball, and Greta was snoring softly. And Alice--Alice lay dreaming with a small, sweet smile on her face. 

"Oh, how wrong I was about you!" Juliet murmured, looking at the girl's sleeping form. Her eyelids fluttered. "Usually I don't like being wrong--but in this caseI do!"

* * * 

True to her word Juliet _did_ help Alice find a topic for her report. The girls went to the library and Juliet put together some notecards on the French-Indian war. Alice gushed her thanks. 

"I don't mind--really," Juliet said. "I just wish you'd have come to me earlier so I could have been more help! The paper's due tomorrow--you'll have to stay up all night if you want to get it done."

"Oh, don't worry about me," Alice said, with a flippant wave of her hand. Juliet frowned. She certainly was taking this lightly! For a girl who'd been so upset last night. Well, maybe she worked well under pressure? Mother was like that--always calm and levelheaded in the face of the storm. "Do you want to go to lunch, Alice?" Juliet asked. 

From across campus, Evelyn called Juliet's name and waved. 

"No--you go," said Alice with a smile. "I'll go back to the tower and start on my paper."

But when Juliet got back from lunch the notecards were still in a stack on Alice's desk, and there was no sign of any work having been done. There was also a note from Alice taped to the door: _Gone out. Don't wait up!_

* * * 

Juliet had a hard time falling asleep the night before her report was due. She was so nervous! She tossed and turned and tried to count the stars--she even crept down to the dorm kitchen for a glass of warm milk. Finally, when the stars in the east had just begun to dim, sleep overtook her. 

It seemed like she had only been asleep for a moment when she awoke--to sun streaming in the windows. Juliet knew it must have been much later than she had planned to wake up. She'd set her alarm for eight o'clock so that she could read over her paper one last time before it was due. That was odd! Juliet followed her hand from along the cord at the back of the clock to the wall. It had been unplugged, but her wristwatch said it was five minutes to eleven! But--but--class was at eleven! And--why hadn't Alice woken her?

Juliet flew out of bed and dressed in a hurry. She pulled her hair into a quick braid and then looked in her desk drawer for the folder containing her report. 

It was not there. 

A chill overtook her, and Juliet shivered. She ransacked the room, looking for her fat blue folder. 

It wasn't there--it wasn't anyplace!

Juliet cast one last, desperate glance at the clock. She _had_ to go now, or she would be late. She would try to explain to the teacher later--! _Where_ on earth could that report _be_?

Hair streaming behind her, Juliet flew in the classroom, the door shutting with a bang behind her. Everyone looked up and the teacher distinctly frowned. Meekly Juliet took her seat. Oh, _there_ was Alice, up at the podium, about to give her own speech. Juliet crept quietly to her chair to listen. 

"Miss Burns, you may go now," said the professor. "I trust there will be no more interruptions." 

He cast a frosty glance in Juliet's direction. 

"_Thank_ you, Professor Jones," Alice said prettily, and cleared her throat. "I had a _lot_ of ideas for this report, but after long and careful research, I chose the topic ofCanada's Influence on the American Civil War."

Juliet covered her mouth with her hand. That was _her_ report! Alice was supposed to be doing hers on the French-Indian War! And she had--copied Juliet's idea. Juliet listened, shaking with rage, as Alice passed off Juliet's words as her own. She saw Professor Jones shaking his head in approval. Shake--shake--shake--she could not _take_ it anymore. 

"Judas! Traitor!" Juliet shouted, leaping to her feet, cutting Alice off midsentence. "That's _my_ report!"

"Miss Kent!" Professor Jones, too, was on his feet. "What is the meaning of this?"

"She _stole_ it from me!" Juliet cried, furious, frustrated tears running down her face. "That's my work, not hers."

"Juliet!" Alice laughed--a snide, hollow laugh without any mirth in it. "How _dare_ you?"

"How dare _you_?" Juliet cried back. "Oh, you're a Judas--Judas!"

Professor Jones looked from Juliet's stricken face to Alice's haughty one. 

"Girls," he said authoritatively. "I'd like to speak to you both after class."

* * * 

"Professor Jones, _I_ wrote that paper," Juliet said earnestly, her hands pressed together in a supplicating gesture. "I swear to you--you have the word of a Kent, of a Murray from New Moon--I _did_!" 

The vow of a Murray from New Moon understandable had little effect on Professor Jones--and next to none on the history dean. 

"You wrote it!" Alice countered. "I've been working on it for ages!"

Juliet ignored the other girl, but she was shaking like a leaf. "Professor--Dean," she said. "My two roommates _saw_ me working on it. Mrs. Watson gave _me_ the diary that I--_she_ quoted from! They'll all vouch for me."

"Greta saw _me_ working on the paper," Alice said. "She'll vouch for _me_."

"No, she won't," said Juliet, her eyes flashing. "Greta wouldn't do a thing to help you. You treat her so horribly!"

Juliet cried for a moment, and then peered out through her fingers. She had an idea. 

"Professor!" she cried. 'Take Alice's--I mean, _my_--notecards away from her. Then ask her what the first sentence of the second paragraph is."

The Professor looked questioningly at the dean, and decided to do as Juliet bid him. 

Alice did not know. Nor did she know the first sentence in the first paragraph, or the tenets set down in the footnotes on the third page. Juliet knew them all. She'd written the paper and typed it three times, remember! She started at the first word of the first line of the first paragraph and repeated the whole paper back to the amazed adults--and Alice--verbatim. It was obvious that she had written it. They watched the Kent girl as she talked--with such fervor, such passion about her subject. When she was done, both of the men clapped and the dean turned his cold eyes on Alice Burns and spoke for the very first time in this encounter. 

"Miss Kent, you may go," he said. "And if Professor Jones doesn't give you the top grade for this paper than he'll be fired--anyone who couldn't see how good this was doesn't deserve to be a teacher at this institution."

Juliet gathered her things, with an odd, triumphant sense of light-headedness enveloping her. Her paper was good--the dean thought so--and it was _hers_. Alice started to get up, too, but the white-haired dean stopped her with a frosty rebuke. 

"Miss Burns, please stay," he said and it was more of a command than a request. "We have certain things to talk over, as I'm sure you know."

Poor Alice--no! Juliet would not waste a moment of concern on her. What a terrible thing she had done! But it was over now. 

"I suppose I've learned a valuable lesson," Juliet said to herself as she danced back across campus to Watson Hall. "I should have gone with my first impression of Alice. I won't say never, oh no--but I have learned this during my short sojourn on this earth: I didn't like Alice from the start, and first impressions are _rarely_ wrong."

* * * 

Glad you all are liking the story!

Terreis: Update your story soon! I know you just did, but I'm getting greedy for more Chris.

Miri: I've never been to Guelph, or Canada, but am frequenting their website for information. That's where I learned about Watson Hall--and the site says that you can "see the whole city" from the top! 

Anonymous 327: Yes, Gilbert died. I'm sorry. But all of those first generation characters are getting old, and I wanted it to be realistic. Plus, I had a really good idea for a plot later on in the story that only works if he's goneand _maybe_ Juliet and Blair will just stay friends? We'll see--I haven't thought that far ahead yet. 


	7. A Very Merry Christmas

Things changed—for the better—after that. Alice no longer played her music at all hours—she didn't tease Trudy—and she didn't badger Greta. Without Alice crowing over her, the other girl came out of her shell and became even more delightful. Greta, shy? Greta, quiet? She was the life of the party—any party. Girls Juliet had never seen before began including her in outings and study dates. 

And Alice didn't even _look_ at Juliet—she was too afraid to. She was like a ghost, haunting the edges and corners of her room. Evelyn told them that she'd seen Alice asleep in one of the carrells in the library—apparently that was where she was spending all of her time. She didn't feel comfortable in her own room, and after news of what she had done spread around campus, no one else wanted to associate with her. Juliet shuddered. How dreadful it would be to have no place to go—to know you were not welcome anywhere!

It was Greta who brought the news that Alice would have a hearing before the Honor Court. 

"She may be kicked out of school," Greta lamented. "Which means I'll have to go, too."

"You!" Juliet gaped. "Why, Greta, you haven't done anything wrong at all. Why should you have to go?"

"My mother and father," Greta said forlornly. "Oh, Juliet, they're the kind of people that believe twins shouldn't be separated at all. Wherever I go, Alice goes—and vice versa. She wanted to go to some school in Michigan—but I wanted to go to Guelph—and Father said he would only write one check to one university each month. Alice is used to getting her own way—but I held fast because I wanted to go here. Plus, Alice's grades at the high school weren't good enough to get in to the other school. So here we are—and if Alice gets booted we'll have to go home. I can't bear it! I love it here—and I love you girls."

Juliet gave a small shudder. How dreadful it would be if Mother and Father were like that, and didn't let her and Douglas live their own lives! When Trudy and Greta had gone out to a Dramatic Society event that night Juliet lagged behind and penned a short, eloquent letter to the Honor Board, pleading for Alice to remain in school. She set her case down very honestly and forthrightly, saying that she forgave Alice and that everyone deserved a second chance. 

It must have worked, because after a few days Alice met Juliet tenatively on the path to the history building. 

"Thank you," was all Alice said, and there was something in her eyes—desperation, perhaps, or shame—that made Juliet believe she meant it. 

"I meant what I said, Alice," Juliet said. "You _do_ deserve a second chance—no matter what I think of you. But don't for a moment think we're friends—I did this for Greta."

"You've saved me, Juliet," Alice said, her eyes pathetically runny and pink. "I'll never be able to thank you enough."

"Don't," said Juliet plainly. "It's a weight off of my own shoulders, too."

It really _was_. Juliet felt light and giddy to know that dear Greta would be staying in school. She sang to herself as she got ready for the Christmas dance—she had decided to let George Percy escort her. George was no threat. He was engaged to a girl back home in Montreal. They were going just as friends—and Juliet did not think either of them would be tempted to imagine they were anything but. Now with Blair King—who had also asked her—she wouldn't have been so sure. She'd politely declined him, so Blair was taking Trudy. 

How rosy her cheeks were and how blue her eyes looked above her navy blue tafetta dress! How she loved the way it swished about her knees when she moved! 

"You lucky thing," Trudy said, looking over her shoulder appreciatively. "You don't need a bit of makeup. I've plastered it on so thickly that I wouldn't be surprised if my face cracks when I smile. Greta, be a dear and _don't_say anything funny tonight."

"I'll restrict my remarks to politics and weather," Greta promised, tying the sash on her own lovely pink, silk dress. How pretty Greta was! She had a delicate, otherworldly prettiness, not like Alice's garish beauty. It sometimes seemed impossible to Juliet that they could even be sisters, much less twins. 

"The weather has cooperated," Trudy remarked absently as she coated her lashes with more mascara. "There was supposed to be a terrible snowstorm last night—but it swooped south and hit the States instead. We haven't had any snow all winter—and I miss it—oh, Juliet! What a gorgeous necklace!"

Juliet had lifted a rope of sapphires from her jewel case and was fastening them around her neck. They were her Christmas present from Allan. She would see him—soon—when she went home for Christmas, but he'd wanted her to have them in time for the dance. "I know we're supposed to be saving for_ our future_," he'd written, "But I saw this in a shop window and knew it was yours—or it should be—or it had been in another life. Juliet—only six more days until you're home! Wear that necklace when you see me, darling—I promise not to bother it while I'm kissing your sweet, white neck."

Dear Allan! How she missed him! So much so that she could almost feel his arms around her when she closed her eyes. Juliet was happier at school than she ever dreamed she'd be—but she was glad that it was only six more days until Christmas—six more days until she'd see Allan—six more days until she'd be going home!

* * * 

But, as it turned out, it was not foreordained that Juliet should go home for Christmas that year. 

The winter storm that they had all rejoiced in missing made a sudden turn to the north and dropped more than four feet of snow on the sleepy town. It stormed for four days straight. No flights came in to the Toronto airport, and none were going out. At first Juliet felt terribly lonely and homesick—Trudy had flown out the day before the storm hit and Alice and Greta had gone to stay with an aunt who lived in town. Juliet despaired at spending Christmas alone until Doug tramped through the snow to get her, bringing and extra pair of snowshoes along. 

So Juliet spent Christmas with Doug and Bella. The little house glowed rosily and they were very contented and warm. Who cared how the wind shook the windows? Who cared about the ice that tapped against the roof. They were inside—they were safe—they had all they needed. If anything should happen, Dr. Carey was right next door. 

They had a wonderful feast of roast goose and mince pie—they sang while Douglas played the piano—and opened Christmas presents. Juliet had a lovely seal coat from Bella and Doug. There was sweater from Trudy and a book, of course, from Greta. Even Alice had gotten her something—a brown silk hair ribbon. It would look simply terrible against Juliet's black silk curtain but perhaps she could give it to Bea when she saw her? On her blond curls it would look quite nice. 

"I used to always long for adventure," Juliet said. "But after tonight I'm beginning to see why most people prefer not to have a fuss. I suppose that means I'm growing up—oh, what a wonderful, magical Christmas eve. Bella, your dinner was delicious. Bella? Bella!"

For Bella had gone very white and was leaning heavily against a chair. 

"Douglas," she said in a quiet, frightened voice. "I think you had better run next door and fetch Dr. Carey."

They knew what it meant—Doug pressed his wife's hand and was out the door before they'd even had time to remind him to take his coat. 

"Bella, are you frightened?" Juliet asked nervously, helping her to a chair. "You can tell me. I won't laugh."

"You'd better not!" Bella laughed weakly. "If you did I'd cast it up to you when you were having your own babies. No, I'm not scared."

The girls listened to the icy branches tapping against the window panes. Where was Doug? What was taking him so long? Occasionally Bella let out a soft, low moan. 

"I _am_ scared," she said after a long moment. "Oh, Juliet, I'm so terribly frightened! What if something happens to me? Oh—I wish my mother were here!"

Just when Juliet thought she would go mad the door opened and Doug and Dr. Carey burst in, bringing a whirl of snow with them. The doctor took one look at Bella and hustled her quickly upstairs. 

It was a long, tense night. The twins huddled together under and afghan on the couch, too anxious to sleep. Douglas's face was very white. He looked to Juliet as he had when he was a boy, and had woken up from a bad dream. 

"Just think," she whispered, as the clock struck eleven. "When morning comes, Doug, you'll be a father!"

But it was much sooner than that. Juliet dozed, falling fitfully in and out of sleep—she dreamed of a fairy baby, with purple eyes and pointed ears—she awoke suddenly at the stroke of midnight. No—the chimes of the clock hadn't woken her—there was a small, mewling sound coming from upstairs. Doug bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time, as Juliet pulled her knees to her chest and thrilled. 

After a few moments, Doug came back down and smiled. 

"Come see, _Aunt_ Juliet," he smiled. "Come upstairs and meet my new daughter."

* * * 

She was the most beautiful baby. Since the dawn of time people the world over were saying that _their_ baby was the most beautiful—but this one really was. She had fine, soft, sugary brown curls and her mouth was in the shape of a little heart. She wasn't red and she didn't have the plucked look other babies had. When the little girl opened her eyes, Juliet gasped to see that they were a deep, violet blue. 

"Violet eyes—and pointed ears!" Juliet gasped, stroking one full, downy cheek. "Why, she looks just like the baby in my dream! Can I hold her, Bella—please, may I?"

Bella deposited the baby in her outstretched arms, and Juliet, who had never especially liked children, felt something stir deep within her. Her eyes grew very soft and misty—perhaps she was looking to the future and seeing the sweet little babes that she would one day have—that she and Allan would have. Babies with her own dark hair and Allan's dear, freckled face. She pressed her own lips to her niece's forehead—not noticing as happy tears graced the little sleeping face. 

"Born just as the clock struck midnight," said old Dr. Carey. "That's lucky. You'll get to pick which day will be her birthday—Christmas Eve or Day?"

They picked Christmas Eve. "Christmas Eve is ever so much more _magical_ than Christmas Day," Juliet explained, and Bella agreed.

"And who wants to share a birthday with the baby Jesus?" Doug laughed, carressing his little daughter's hands adoringly. "That's a lot for a wee thing like my girl to live up to."

They decided to name her Emily Elizabeth—after the two grandmothers. "Emily Elizabeth Kent," Bella laughed. "Why, the names longer than she is! Oh, Doug, in the morning you must find a way to get to town and send word to Priest Pond—and New Moon! They will all want to know that they are grandparents at last."

Mother and Father—grandparents? Doug was a father! And Bella a mother! It was so strange—and yet so normal, at the same time. As if they had always, since the dawn of time, been parents to this ethereal, lovely child. 

"I'll give her everything in the world that is good and protect her from everything that isn't," said Douglas rapturously, his eyes never leaving Emily Elizabeth's face. Juliet shivered. Why Doug looked like—he looked like Father! He _was_ a Father! Juliet felt very small as the sands of time swirled around her. She was happier than she had ever been—and yet underneath the joy there was the sense that things were changing—that they were all growing up—that they could never go back to the way it once had been. She stared around the room and saw that they all felt it. 

But then Juliet laughed. "It's Christmas!" she whispered exultantly. "Merry Christmas, little baby!" 

Emily Elizabeth Kent screwed up her face and began to cry. And just as soon as it had come, the uncanny feeling was gone, and the purest kind of happiness took its place. 


	8. The Greatest Sacrifice

Juliet went home in time for the New Year, bearing snapshots of the baby to show to the grandparents. Little Emily Elizabeth—or Embeth, as they all had taken to calling her—posed for her first photos with all the graces and airs of a princess born to a royal family. 

"She _was_ born to a royal family," Juliet corrected them. "Isn't she part Murray?"

"And Starr," Mother added. 

"And Kent," said Father. 

"And Priest," Uncle Dean amended. 

"And Grayson!" Little Elizabeth finished. "What an awful lot of traditions and heritage our baby has to live up to!"

The pictures were examined and scrutinised. It was decided that the baby had Mother's eyes and ears, Father's hands, Little Elizabeth's mouth and Uncle Dean's chin and nose. They all argued ceaselessly about who and what that finally Mother threw up her hands, smiling. 

"Stop!" said she. "Oh, we mustn't subject this child to this kind of banter her whole life. How angry it used to make me, to hear I was made up of bits and pieces. But—one thing I do hope my little granddaughter inherits is the Murray look—it's served me well over my lifetime. Just last week I almost turned Olive Drew to a pillar of salt—she told me I was beginning to look rather _old_."

"You—old!" Uncle Dean laughed. "To me, Emily, you are still the same young girl that I found clinging to the Malvern rocks so long ago. Do you remember that day, Emily? It's funny—all the things that happened so long ago seem strangely close to me these past few weeks—months—fleeting and slipping around me like shadows and smoke, mysterious and untangible. But so _real_. Isn't that strange? Everywhere I go I smell the fragrance of dead roses. Well, come Little Elizabeth—for a moment there I was a younger man but now I feel old again. Let's get home before the chill in the air settles in my bones. Goodbye, Teddy—Juliet—Emily."

They bade the happy couple goodbye—well, Father and Juliet did. Mother didn't seem to notice. She kissed Dean absentmindedly on his wrinkled cheek, her brow furrowed. 

"I'm worried about him," she explained when Uncle Dean and Little Elizabeth had gone. "Dean seems so ghostly lately—as if he were slipping very gradually away. Am I the only one who notices it?"

"You're in a morbid mood," Father laughed. "All of Dean's talk about shadows has unsettled you. Be of good cheer, my darling wife, and come and admire the portrait of our granddaughter I've started working on. For some reason I cannot capture how sweet she really is with pen and ink. Leave all of Dean's talk about shadows behind and be happy—all is happiness and light."

But still, Mother gazed into the distance. Perhaps she was seeing shadows of her own, lurking around the corner.

* * * 

Allan came down that weekend and he and Juliet had a gay, happy whirl of togetherness. They were not separated for a second. A sudden snow shower came up Friday night and left them all stranded until Sunday morning, which was freakishly warm for January. Allan, who had had dinner at New Moon, slept that night in Doug's old room. Juliet lay in her cozy nest of blankets, content to know that only a thin wall separated her from her true love. 

"It makes—all the difference—to know he is_ near_," she thought drowsily as she drifted off to slumberland. 

When Allan left on Sunday to go back to Charlottetown she did not even have time to miss him—she was going to spent the week at Bea's new house over in Harmony!

What a wonderful time she had. Bea's house_ looked_ like her—at least, on the inside. On the outside it looked like David—sturdy and solid with a hint of charm and humor about the edges. Inside it was all Bea. The parlor was papered with pink and purple fans—leopard spots in the sitting room—and garishly red roses on a yellow background in the dining room. Bea had placed bouquets of peacock feathers everywhere. It was a sight and made Juliet's head whirl to behold it—at first. She soon got used to it! But oh, how the Harmony gossips must be talking! The only calm place in the whole house was the upstairs bedroom that Juliet inhabited during her stay. _It_ was hung with the pretty bluebell paper and there was a lovely ivory cashmere bedspread and white eyelet curtains at the windows. Juliet exclaimed over it over and over again until Bea explained, 

"We had to put all the stodgy things we got as wedding gifts _somewhere_."

It was good to see Bea. She looked—older—somehow. More settled, more content—if such words could be used to describe madcap Bea! David was good for her—he could settle her with a flick of his eyes or a touch of his hand. He could calm her ruffled feathers when she had a tantrum just with a quick kiss. The girls went out almost every night: to the cafe, to the cinema, or to the new Chinese retaurant that was in town. They visited a certain blond-haired imp by the name of Lee Guest who inhabited the nearby Clouf of Spruce—he and Juliet were especial friends. Then the girls sat up late in Bea's warm, cozy kitchen, where Bea prepped Juliet for the rigors of married life. Some of it made Juliet laugh—some of it made her blush—and some of Bea's prattle made her feel imposibly young and left behind. 

"I wonder if I will change any when Allan and I are married?" she asked Juliet-in-the-glass as she stood in her moonlit, bluebell bedroom. "It seems strange—to think of us doing _those_ things—that Bea talked about—things that married couples do. But oh! So wonderful, too. It's very—odd—this growing up!"

She went to bed with a smile on her face, her diamond troth winking in the moonlight that filtered in through the eyelet curtains. But when she woke in the morning it was to Bea's tear-stained face and disheveled hair. David had his hand solidly on her shoulder. 

"Oh, what is it?" Juliet cried, suddenly wide awake, her heart pounding. "What's happened? It—is—Allan?" All of the years of war and separation had taken their toll on Juliet Kent—she could never get bad news without first thinking of that time that Allan had gone missing and they had feared the worst.

"It's not," Bea said. "It's not Allan. And your Mother and Father are fine. But oh, Juliet—Dean Priest—Uncle Dean—is dead."

* * * 

The next few days were terrible and past very slowly. Of course Bella must be told—and it was Mother who called her—calm, haunted Mother—for Little Elizabeth was too broken-up to do anything but sit on the sofa in the New Moon parlor, staring limply into the distance. It was as if she were trying to bridge the greatest distance of all by being especially calm and still—she shed not a tear, which chilled Juliet more than anything else. Mother's eyes, too, were dry, as she planned and prepared everything that Aunt Elizabeth could not. But Bella cried enough for all of them—she was beside herself with grief. She could not come to the funeral—she was not yet strong enough to fly and the baby was too little for a long trip. Juliet was secretly glad—the funeral was terrible—Uncle Dean _hadn't_ looked like himself. There was no hint of the sarcastic humor they all loved in his face—there was no sign of the great intellect hidden beneath his shaggy head—yes, even until the last Uncle Dean had kept a full head of shaggy hair. 

The strangest memories kept coming back to Juliet. That night last summer that she and Uncle Dean had read by candlelight—the night that she had first fallen in love with the stories of the past. And he had introduced her to that love! There would be no more stories from that gentle soul now. She remembered how when they were children, he would place his hand on the very top of her shiny black curls and cup it there—it was the most gentle, reassuring touch in the world. A flood of memories washed over her, keeping her from sleep. Juliet crept down to the kitchen—she could not bear it. 

And there was Mother, sitting alone in the dark at the table. With just a beam of light from the moon slanting down and touching her forehead like a crown of jewels. Juliet flew to her and buried her head in her lap. A chill touched Juliet's own heart. It was impossible—impossible—that someone like Mother could die! And yet she would—one day. 

"Mother—Mother! How can we bear it?" she said brokenly. 

Emily Kent stroked her daughter's hair and smiled a sad, wan smile. She knew that the first time death touches a person it is the most heartsick, forlorn feeling in the world. Emily had had to face death at a young age—her first memory was kissing her own mother's cold, cold cheek. She was glad that feeling of great stillness had been kept from her girl for so long. 

"Darling Juliet," she said. "This is the first time you've experienced the death of someone close to you—you were too young to remember when Aunts Elizabeth and Laura and Cousin Jimmy went. But it will get easier with time. The saddest thing is when a person who is young dies—like Owen Ford from the Glen—or Ilse and Perry's poor lost girl. Emily Miller would be older than you now—strange, it's so strange. Those two souls never really had a chance to experience what we all hope to experience in this life. But Dean _did_. These past twenty years he was the happiest person to ever walk the face of the earth. Oh yes—his life was hard before. But you cannot really have a _full_ life without some pain, don't you think, darling? And knowing that Uncle Dean had a full life—that he really lived—counts for something, doesn't it?"

"It's not just that," Juliet wept. "But you—and Father—and Aunt Ilse and Uncle Perry—and Little Elizabeth—and Doug—and _Allan!_ That is the hardest thing of all. Seeing the look in Aunt Elizabeth'e eyes. She loved Dean so—just as I love Allan. What should I do without him—or any of you?"

"Juliet," Mother said wisely. "When a person you love dies a part of you dies, too. You love me—and Ilse and Perry—and Allan and Doug and Father—would you sacrifice yourself for us—for any of us?"

"Of course I would!"

"Loving is the greatest sacrifice." Mother stroked Juliet's hair tenderly. "And living with the risk that the person you love might one day not be there is part of it. Live every day to the fullest, my girl—dont waste a moment—and then when my time comes—and Teddy's—and Allan's—and _yours—_you will be able to let go with a light heart, knowing that you lived the best life you possibly could."

They stayed that way for a long while, mother and child, as the wind whistled through Lofty John's bush. Then Juliet asked, "But it's still hard—isn't it, Mother?"

"Yes," Mother said. "Dean Priest was my last link to my own dear Father—he was like a Father to me. Oh, Juliet, life is wonderful and magical and sweet and tender—but at times, it _is_ hard. Never for a moment believe that it isn't! Oh, world! You are such a cruel lover—and friend!" 

The tears Emily had been holding back for so long began now to fall down her cheeks, and it was Juliet's turn to hold her mother in her arms. AS she did so, Juliet had the oddest sensation—that she and Mother were now somehow more than that—that they were no longer separated by the bounds of time and age. As the two women of New Moon held each other that night they were bound together by grief—and love. 

* * * 

A/n: A depressing chapter, I know—things will get better and more lighthearted soon! My own grandmother and grandfather died this year so I think I was working out some feelings I had left over from that. I hope you all can take something from this, and that it helps anyone else out there who is grieving. 

Sorry I haven't updated in so long—I have the flu. :-\


	9. A Cry in the Night

And then it was another plane ride back to Guelph--classes began again--Juliet threw herself into her work. She managed to outpass even her stellar performance of the last semester. Honors were heaped upon her for the paper she wrote on the history of colonial Canada. Mrs. Watson, who had hired Juliet the semester before to do a genealogy of her family, recommended her to other matrons in the area, and before she knew what had hit her Juliet was up to her ears in birth and death announcements from staid old families around the province. The job paid very well and she enjoyed it--it was interesting to think that she was poking around the past's of people who had been dead for a hundred years or more. It made her think that perhaps those who were gone were _not_ forgotten, not entirely. 

It helped to keep her mind off of Uncle Dean--and, more trivially, off of the Sweetheart Dance the student group was arranging for the second week in February. Juliet wrote a flippant little letter to Allan about it. But of course he could not leave his job and his classes in the middle of the term to be with her. 

"I hate to think of you being here all by yourself," Trudy moaned. "When we'll all be out having fun! Juliet, why don't you come with me and Blair? We'll go as a group--it'll be fun."

"You and Blair!" Juliet hummed. "Isn't Hannah going to come out for the big dance?"

Trudy shook her head. "Her grades haven't been so good this semester. Mother and Father are afraid she's spending too much time writing to Blair, talking to Blair, thinking of Blair. So they've put a moratorium on her visits and calls until her algebra improves. Blair's taking me, I suppose, because I'm safe. How could he be tempted by plain, boring old Trudy Ford when he has the gorgeous Hannah to think of?"

Her mouth twisted in a wry grin, but the expression in her gray-green eyes was mocking and sad. Juliet's heart twisted. It was true that Hannah Ford, with her ropes of corn-colored hair and bright smile, was the beauty of the Ford family. But how could you prefer her for Trudy? Trudy wasn't pretty but she had _something--_a spark--it was as if she glowed with light from within. Juliet threw her arms around Trudy and said, 

"Blair King would be _lucky_ to end up with you. You're too good for the likes of _him_!"

"Oh, come on, Juliet!" Trudy laughed. "I know you hate him, but honestly, you don't think Blair's _that_ bad, do you?"

"No, I suppose not," Juliet mused. "I'll never be able to think him the dashing he-man I thought him when I fancied we were in love. I'll never be able to forget how quickly he turned on me when the chips were down! But for Hannah he isn't so bad. For _you_, though, friend of my heart--I want _you_ with one of the princes of Europe. And even _he_ won't be half good enough for you."

"Say you'll come to the dance," Trudy begged. 

"If I get this family history done for Mrs. Bainbridge, I will," Juliet promised. "Do you know that unfortunate woman has not one but _two_ men in her family named Nebuchadnezzar? What a name!"

"It's what I plan on naming my firstborn child," Trudy giggled--then left Juliet alone so she could finish up her work.

* * * 

Juliet worked all day so that she could go to the dance with no obligations hanging over her. She didn't _want_ to go, per se--but Mother and Father had given her the most beguiling Christmas dress--a wispy thing made of sea-foam lace that wasn't quite white but green in some lights and silvery-blue in others. It must have been terribly expensive, and Juliet wanted to get their money's worth out of it. 

She settled down in her desk chair--Alice was off somewhere with her latest beau and Greta and Trudy had gone into town to shop. It was for the best, probably, thought Juliet ruefully, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She was wearing her oldest, most faded print dress--her other outfits had gone to the cleaners--and her hair was dirty and lank. She'd set it later, after her shower. 

Juliet worked diligently for an hour or so. It was so hard to concentrate! She kept thinking of Allan--she thought she heard his whistle in the courtyard below--his tread on the stairs as he took them two at a time

Oh, but it was Allan! The door to the tower room opened and in he burst in, a smile on his face and a bunch of wild rice lilies in his hands. Juliet sprang up and he caught her around the waist and pulled her close. 

"I hate you," Juliet laughed, with quite the opposite meaning in her eyes. "How dare you sneak up on me like that! Allan--what are you doing here?"

"You wrote me about the dance," Allan smiled, dipping her low so that her hair brushed the floor. "And you didn't ask me to come so I thought you must have made a date with someone else." His eyes sparkled impishly. 

"I didn't ask you to come because I thought you _couldn't_, and I didn't want you to feel guilty!" Juliet tore frantically at her hair with her hands and looked dismally at her old dress. "You wretched thing! Why didn't you at least call so I'd be wearing something decent."

"You're beautiful," Allan declared. "Even in a housedress and a kerchief. How do you pull it off? Most other girls would look like a _hausfrau_ but you look like a queen."

* * * 

It was amazing how her attitude about the dance changed in just a few minutes. Suddenly Juliet _wanted_ to go to the dance more than ever--more than she'd wanted to do anything. How lovely it would be to put on that new dress and look alluring for _him_!

The night before the dance Allan borrowed an old jalopy from one of the coeds and he and Juliet went on a ride down one of the country rodes surrounding the college and the town. They were deeper into the woods than Juliet had ever been--there were no lights from the city nearby and the sky overhead glowed like jewels. They must be thirty miles from campus! How beautiful it was! The thick blanket of snow had not melted and here it was still pristine and untouched. A sudden flash to the north caught her attention, and as the sky shone with the northern lights, Juliet wanted to cry. It was so beautiful! 

Allan drove along smoothly--and then gradually slowed--and then stopped completely. 

"Why did we stop?" Juliet laughed. 

"I didn't stop," Allan said, his brow furrowing. "The car did."

"What do you mean?" Juliet's eyes were wide. 

"I mean--we're stranded," Allan said--and then laughed. "Let me go poke around under the hood. I'll see if there's anything I can do."

A minute later he was back. 

"It's the funniest thing," Allan said, looking sheepish. 

"What? What! Can the car be fixed?"

"Oh, most certainly," Allan said. "For about thirty cents. We're out of gas. Come on, honey, it's cold outside. Let's bundle ourselves in these blankets in the back and cuddle for warmth. Someone's bound to come along and rescue us soon."

'We could walk to town," Juliet said dubiously. 

"It's over thirty miles!" 

"Well, then, let's cuddle, like you said. It was a good idea. Oh, Allan, _someone's_ bound to come down this road before long. Aren't they?"

But no one did come along. Juliet and Allan snuggled into the blankets that had conveniently been left under the seat in the back and watched the brilliant display of color overhead. Her face tingled and soon it hurt to breathe--the air was so cold it stung her lungs as she took it in. 

"Allan, we can't stay here all night," she whispered. "No one's come by--we'll freeze to death. I saw the thermometer as I went out--it's ten below tonight. It gets colder here than on the Island. Nothing I was alarmed about before--but I didn't expect to be spending the night in a car. There's nobody around for miles, is there?"

"I think we passed a cabin by the road a ways back," Allan said. "About a mile--Juliet, can you walk it?"

Juliet looked at him scornfully. "Of course I can! But Allan--are you sure you saw one?"

He _said_ he was sure, and the two set off through the snow. It was so dark! And cold. Was Allan sure it was only a mile? They must have walked at least _three_ by now! Just when Juliet thought she could not go on, she heard Allan say, "There it is!" 

The two weary young people climbed the steps with feet that seemed like frozen blocks. Juliet knocked forthrightly once. And then twice. And when there was no response, a third time, desperately. 

"I don't think anyone _lives_ here, Allan," she said. "I think this cabin must be for hunters, in the spring, or is abandoned. _What_ are we going to do?"

But Allan had already picked up a stone from the yard and neatly rapped it into the window set in the door. Then he reached his hand in through the small hole he'd made and unlocked it. 

"I'll leave my name and address for anyone who comes here in spring," Allan said. "They can write me and I'll pay to have the window replaced. Come in, Juliet--I want to get you something hot to drink to make sure you're not frozen solid."

It was shabby, this cabin, but to the cold and tired Allan and Juliet it seemed like a palace. It was only one room, with a cot and a sofa. There was no telephone, and no electric lights. But there were a couple of kerosene lanterns, and heaps of blankets, and a wood stove with piles of cordwood stacked by it. Allan started a fire and made Juliet a cup of rather dubious tea. Then the two settled down companionably on the sofa. 

"This is the first time we've ever been together--all night--by ourselves," Allan said wonderingly. 

"Oh, Allan, you're right!" Juliet gasped. "What will everyone say? What will they think of us?"

"We'll figure something out." Allan yawned. "Only Greta and Trudy know we're gone, and you can explain to them."

"And Alice," Juliet reminded him. 

"But who will believe anything Alice has to say?" he pointed out. "Especially after that stunt she pulled. Besides--I don't think people would think that _we_ did--anything. Juliet, sweetheart, I'm beat. Can you bring me an extra blanket--I'll take the couch, you get the cot. I--don't--think it matters, though. They're equally lumpy and uncomfortable. Darling, give me a goodnight kiss, and then off to bed with you."

He was asleep before she'd even had a chance to pull the covers up to his chest. Juliet made herself comfortable and drifted off herself. 

"This is like that old story about Mother and Father--and Aunt Ilse and Uncle Perry," she thought drowsily before her eyes closed. "In the Shrewsbury days--and Aunt Ilse got drunk! What a good story! What good times Mother and the rest of them had! Someone--should--really--write about them!"

* * * 

It was impossible to tell how much later it was when Juliet awoke. She had no clock--the sky was still as black as velvet. She did not know what it was, but _some_ sound had woken her--some unearthly sort of long, low moan. Maybe she had dreamed it? But no--there it was again. 

"Allan," she whispered, not daring to move. There was no response. "Allan!" 

"All around back, troops!" Out of the thick blackness surrounding her came a voice. Allan's voice! Juliet sat up in bed. Why was he shouting--_what_ was he shouting? "Stay back men--stay back!" 

She leapt from bed and lit one of the lamps. Allan was still shouting orders in his sleep--at one point he must have dreamed about an explosion because he cried out and covered his head with his arms. Juliet was frightened. She knelt by him and shook him, to wake him up. 

"Allan! You're dreaming! Stop! Wake up, darling, please--you're scaring me!"

Allan grabbed the hand she had laid on his shoulder and gripped it warningly. Juliet cried and dropped her lamp--then Allan saw who it was. "Juliet," he breathed. "I forgot--I didn't remember--are you all right? I didn't hurt you? I thought you were--someone else. You just startled me."

"You were dreaming about the war, weren't you?" she whispered, tears running down her face. 

"No, I wasn't. I wasn't--"

"Allan, you _were_! I heard you calling out to your troops--you were shouting orders in that military-speak, that sort of code"

"I was dreaming of nothing of the sort." Allan brushed her away. "I dreamt I was in Lofty John's bush, that's all, and I was wearing my pants on my head. It was a silly dream, nothing to get worked up over."

"I _heard_ you," Juliet said tearfully. "I know _I_ wasn't dreaming, Allan!"

"I wasn't!" Allan roared. "Get away, go back to bed. Let me alone! I _wasn't_ dreaming about the war. I never dream of it--I never t_hink_ of it. Leave me alone, don't talk about it! Please, _please_ leave me alone!" 

He sprang from the bed and paced the small room frantically. At one point he covered his face with his hands and his shoulders heaved. Juliet, more frightened than she had been before, crept back to her cot and pulled the blankets up to hide her face. Soon she heard Allan lay back on the sofa. He turned the lamp down, and darkness enveloped them again. 

"I thought it was over," she murmured into the blackness, wishing she could reach out and touch Allan's hand for comfort. "The war."

"It will never be over," he said in return. 

They lay there like that all night, with miles of distance between them, too hurt and afraid to sleep. 


	10. Love Complicates Things

"You poor dear!" Trudy said, the next morning, when Juliet had told her everything. "Poor Allan! What happened next?"

"In the morning we found a gallon of gasoline under the sofa," Juliet explained, drying her tear-stained cheeks. "It had been there the whole time. We took it and started the car and drove back to town. But Trudy--Allan didn't say a word to me the whole way back. Have you ever heard of anything like this? I thought--when he came back from the war--we'd pick up right where we left off. I _knew_ the war would leave a mark on him--I just didn't know how bad it would be! No wonder Allan is so jumpy--so worried all the time. I've been noticing little gray threads in his hair since I saw him again."

Trudy was silent for a moment. "My uncle Jack was like that, after the first war," she said thoughtfully. "He still jumps when he hears loud noises--we had fireworks at the Glen harbor once, for Confederation Day, and he had to go back up to the house. Uncle Shirley's like that, too, and Uncle Jem doesn't like to talk about the war. When Father gets worried, he runs his hand over his scar, that small one on his face."

"I'm so worried about him." Juliet leaned her head against the cool windowpane in the tower room, ignoring the bustling view below. "Before the war there was nothing Allan and I did not know about each other. Now there are so many things."

"Has he gone back to the Island?" Greta asked, running her hands through Juliet's long, tangled hair. 

"No." Juliet laughed briefly--a bitter, halting laugh. She was too shook up to cry anymore. "He still wants to go to the dance tonight." 

"Well, are you going?"

"I don't know." From her perch on the window-seat Juliet could see her lovely dress, hanging in wait. "I suppose we will."

"That's a good, sensible idea," Trudy said, resuming the arduous task of putting her hair in pin-curls. "Act as if nothing had happened. He'll get better, in time, Juliet. Things will be back to normal before you know it."

Juliet voiced her agreement, but that was not why she wanted to go to the dance. She had a fleeting, unsettled feeling in her heart that it might be the last chance they had to have a happy evening--and she wanted to take advantage of it. 

* * * 

He was late picking her up. Trudy and Greta had both gone by the time Juliet heard Allan's heavy tread on the stairs. How different from his jaunty footfalls of the day before--was it just the day before that she had been so happy to see him? Juliet took Allan's arm and let him lead her outside. They walked in silence to the hall where the dance was being held. The windows were lit up and inside, dark silhouettes whirled past gaily. Oh, she didn't want to go in! If only it was possible to turn back the clock! Juliet wished she didn't know what she knew about Allan. He would not let her help! He didn't want to talk about it. All she could do was worry. 

They danced a few dances and then Allan excused himself for a moment--but he didn't come back. Juliet pushed her way furiously through the other couples, looking for him. She found him on the porch, staring up at the night sky. 

"Look at the moon," he said. "Have you ever seen such a big moon? It looks so clean--so close--so new. Juliet, tell me you wouldn't fly up there right now if you could."

"I would," she said honestly. "Allan, darling, please talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking, really!" 

"Only that I don't deserve you," Allan said, still staring up at the night sky. "I'm--not--the right person for you anymore, Juliet. I'm not the _same_. I'm not happy. You're right--the war _has_ done things to me that nothing can undo. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but now I have to. I've seen death all around me. I've held a man in my arms while he died, so I've touched death, too. I've seen it, heard it, and smelled it. If that wasn't bad enough, now I dream about it every night. Juliet, I--I want to ask for my ring back. I can't marry you, after all."

Juliet felt something very cold wash over her. Allan wanted his ring back. Allan did not want to marry her. She let her mind roam backwards, combing every day, every month, every year of her life. She could not think of one time when Allan had not been the person closest to her, the one she cared the most about. And now he was saying he did not want her anymore!

"Why?" she asked dully, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth. It was cold--it was suddenly so much colder than she had thought. "Don't--you--_love_ me, Allan?"

"Yes! Yes," he whispered fiercely. "How could I _not_ love you?"

"Then--_why_?"

"Because I don't want to ruin you," Allan said, looking very lost and forlorn and taking her in his arms. "Do you remember when we had that terrible storm so long ago? You must have been ten years old--I was nine. And we were home alone at Burnley Barrens--and the wind shook the house so terribly--and you kept saying, 'What's to become of us? Oh, Allan, what's to _become_ of us!' Over and over again--Juliet, I don't know what's to become of _me_. I only know that there's no happiness in me anymore--no joy. Yes, there is love, there must be, because when I think of you I think of _love_. But there is only that--and darkness, and fear. Nothing more."

When he let her go Juliet said, "I put my ring in your pocket, while you were talking. So--there it is."

Allan reached into his pocket and found it there, just as she said. It glittered on his palm between them. 

"So this is what it feels like?" Juliet asked. "Oh, Allan, do you remember? That night you first asked to marry me? And I said no, because I wasn't in love with you. I _knew_ I couldn't know then how much I'd hurt you. But I know now. Oh, it's terrible--it's terrible, what you're doing to us! _I_ love you--I love you even when your soul is war-torn. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"Yes," Allan said simply. "It counts for something--_something_."

"But not enough," Juliet finished. 

"No, not enough."

Juliet sank down to the cold wood floor of the porch. It was impossible that there were people inside who were happy--who were dancing--who were happily in love. 

"You haven't said you hated me, Juliet," said Allan, sitting next to her. "You're allowed to, if you want."

"I could never hate you," she said in a monotone. "We will always be the best of friends, won't we, even if we can't be husband and wife? I don't want to _lose_ you, Allan! And perhaps--one day--you'll change your mind--?"

"No. Juliet."

"Fine, then. But we _will_ stay friends, always. And oh, Allan--you've got to tell your Mother and Father about these demons you're fighting. You can't do it all alone. Promise me--you'll tell them. You need--someone--to help you." 

"No!" Allan shook his head vehemently. "I can't. And you can't either. Promise _me_ you won't--if you do, I won't speak to you again. It's my business--that's why I can't marry you. I don't want this--_wickedness_--to touch anyone else."

"I won't tell them, then," Juliet said, closing her eyes. "You really should leave, Allan--I need to be by myself for a while."

"In the cold?" 

"I'll be all right."

* * * 

She did not know how long she sat there. The dance went on and on. The music never stopped, and no one came outside at all. They were all having too good a time inside. Juliet had no idea where Allan had gone. Perhaps back to his boarding-house--perhaps he would leave without saying goodbye to her! Why should he? They were nothing to each other anymore. Juliet wished that she had kissed him one last time. She would never get the chance to again. 

She buried her face in the skirt of her lace dress and cried so long and so hard that she did not notice when another person stepped out on to the porch and began to watch her. 

Blair King had come out for a smoke--Trudy Ford was a nice girl, much nicer than he ever would have thought before he started writing to her sister. So funny, with such an electric energy inside of her. Such a coincidence that she--and Juliet Kent--

But here _was _Juliet Kent--at least Blair _thought_ it was her. All he could really see was the top of her head. He'd always thought her hair looked just like obsidian. His mother had a piece she'd picked up in Japan when she was young. Juliet's hair looked just like _that_. 

"What's wrong that you should be crying?" Blair said, sitting next to her, and stretching his long legs out in front of him. "Allan Miller throw you over or something?"

She raised her face and looked at him with such intensity that he said, "I'm sorry. Juliet--I honestly had no idea. Poor girlie--when did it happen? Just now? Don't want to talk about it? I understand. Oh, honey--here's a handkerchief, let's wipe your tears away."

Blair dabbed at her face and then put one arm around her protectively. 

"So what was his excuse?" Blair asked. "Another woman? Was he messing around on you, Juliet? Do you want me to go beat him up?"

"No!" Juliet cried. "Allan would--never--do that! And I bet you're just itching for a chance to beat him up--you've never like d him at all."

"Easy, easy!" Blair said. "You're right, I was just looking for an excuse. I _have_ never liked Miller but now I have a reason not to--he's made one of my friends cry. You don't have to tell me what happened, Juliet--but it might help. And I can keep a secret. Have I ever told anyone any of the things you told _me_ while you were my girl?"

"No, you haven't," Juliet admitted. "Blair--do you ever think about the war?"

She felt him stiffen and he said, "Do you want the response I give my sisters or the _real_ response?"

"Real, please."

"Yes. Often. But not all the time."

"What do you tell your sisters?"

"That I never think about it."

"Allan dreams about it every night," Juliet cried. "He says he doesn't want--to ruin me with it."

Blair was silent for a long while. "I just flew during the raids," he said. "It was different in the trenches. Poor Miller. Poor _all_ of us who went. And you still love him? Well, he'll most likely come to his senses."

"Blair, will you kiss me?" Juliet asked suddenly. "I would very much like to be kissed right now."

"By me--or by Allan Miller?" Blair asked in surprise. 

"By Allan Miller, of course," Juliet said. "But you'll do--if I tilt my head and squint I can pretend you're him. AndI still can remember a time when I thought of _you_ and _love_ in the same sentence. I _know_ you still think about me, sometimes, Blair. Kiss me quick, before I come to my senses."

He did--Juliet closed her eyes. But it was hopeless. She couldn't pretend he was someone he wasn't. He was Blair King. That was all. But he _was_ a good kisser. For a few seconds she forgot all about Allan--about the thin white line of her ring finger that marked where her diamond had been. She was transported to a simpler time--when she was just a teenage girl in the throws of her first love--when the war had not touched her or anyone she loved yet. 

Blair King, however, kept his eyes open--at least, he opened them in time to see Allan Miller at the door of the hall, watching them. He looked like he was having one of his nightmares, only this time, he was wide awake. The two men stared at each other as Juliet nestled against Blair, her tears falling down his collar onto his neck. Then Allan turned and walked back inside. 

Blair looked at Juliet's tired, tortured face, and decided not to tell her what he'd seen. Poor thing--she had more than enough to worry about already.


	11. Aftermath

Juliet didn't write to Mother or Aunt Ilse and tell them that she and Allan had broken their engagement--why should she? It would be spread around soon enough. Those old Blair Water gossips would wrangle and harangue the issue to death--what had caused it? Was there another man? Woman? Had they fought over something trivial? When Josie Blair and Fred Polk had ended it months ago a rumour had gone round that it was over a _cat_--Josie had one and Fred didn't like them. Juliet didn't think she could face hearing a rumour like that about herself and Allan. No, she was glad to keep it under wraps as long as possible. 

She told only Trudy and Greta, and while telling it she was very flippant and pretended that it didn't hurt or matter at all. The two girls knew it was an act. They petted Juliet and stroked her, but offered no words of sympathy or encouragement. They were wise souls--they knew that nothing they could say could minimise this hurt for their dear friend. She only left one part out--the part about kissing Blair. That part seemed, even to Juliet, sort of hazy and dreamlike. Had she really done that? Anyway, they all took great pains that Alice should not know. Alice Burns had a way of fussing and drawing out the most painful of secrets, and then wanting to talk them over in a way that was like sticking a straight pin in your soul. Whenever Alice was around, Trudy would remark casually, "Allan called while you were out." Then Juliet's heart would jump hopefully into her throat until Trudy cast a pointed look at Alice and shook her head sadly. He had not called, really. It was just for show. But Juliet could not hide the fact that her slender left hand was white and naked without her ring. Maybe Alice noticed and tactfully said nothing--maybe she didn't--but either way, she said nothing. 

Juliet expected Allan to tell all the home folks immediately--she prepared herself for a barrage of letters and phone calls--but none came. And Mother didn't mention it at all. Neither did Aunt Ilse. Their letters were warm and cheery as ever and Aunt Ilse's mentioned some plans for the far-off wedding that would never take place now--cheery little notes that took the wind out of Juliet's sails and made her feel physically ill. And Bea wrote that there would be an addition to the family by next Valentine's day. So Bea was having a baby! Juliet felt suddenly exhausted. She had hoped to be married to Allan by next February--and to soon after that have such happy news of her own. That would never come to pass, now. She couldn't imagine loving anyone _but_ Allan. But even if she could one day love someone else it would not be for years and years yet. It certainly couldn't be until she'd stopped writing him these long, morbidly friendly letters. Even though she never got a response back. 

* * * 

__

friend, I've kept my promise not to tell anyone your secret, but I must ask--how are you? Allan, I know I'm not supposed to, not anymore, but I can't help but worry about you. But that's not what you want to hear and I don't want to make you feel guilty, so I'll move on. School is going very well. For my oral history class we had to record a story and submit it to the dean. I racked my brain for a story--I thought back on my own childhood and a thousand memories sprang to mind. Oh, do you remember how you and Bea and Doug and I played Gone With the Wind_ years and years ago_? _You were furious because you always had to be Ashley, and Bea was furious because she had to be Melanie. Because you're both blondand Aunt Ilse would do our costumes and she would insist that we keep at least some semblance of verisimilitude. I got my first kiss from you when we were playing Scarlett and Ashley. Does that even count as a first kiss, if you're playing someone else? But oh, remember how we'd make Father and Uncle Perry dress up as the Union soldiers and chase us? We'd run down the lane screaming, 'The Yankees are coming! The Yankees!' frightening the old PEI farmers and farmers' wives into thinking that they'd invaded from New York!_

But no, I couldn't write about that. It seems to dear to share right now, and my heart is very tender about anything that concerns you. I should be honest about it, at least, shouldn't I? Allan, I love you, and miss you more than you will ever know, especially because I'm finding it hard to believe that you still love me. _Even though you swear you do. But I'm veering off topic and I am trying very hard not to cry and leave smudge marks on this letter, so instead of crying I'll tell you what story I _did_ pick for my project: the one about Mother, as a little girl, eating the poisoned apple in Lofty John's barn! My teachers loved it and so I typed it up and submitted it to the campus literary mag--and a certain Mr. Jones on the alumni board wrote to tell me this:_

Miss Kent, 

I found the charming tale you submitted to _The Primrose_ very engaging indeed. The only thing I did not like about it was that it ended so soon. You must have a thousand old stories about your Mother, and I would be interested in reading them all if they are half so interesting as this. 

I am yours respectfully, etc. 

__

There! That's transcribed exactly as he wrote it. I never thought about being a writer before, but I had such a wonderful time when I was_ writing the story. Isn't that the way with so many things? They turn out the way you least expect. Because I never expected to be without you, and look at me now_

* * * 

Juliet hardly noticed when the semester ended. Word had finally gotten around--from _someone_, she didn't care who--that Juliet Kent was unattached. They suspected it was Alice, but she was actually being kind as could be, and seemed to have no malice towards her at all. Anyway, Juliet was bombarded with offers of dates from the young coeds. A few of them she accepted. Why shouldn't she? Didn't she have a closet full of lacy dresses that were, at present moment, being eaten up by moths? Wasn't going out with _someone_ better than sitting alone in the tower, letting twilight wash over her? 

But she could not like any of them--not even as friends. She resented them and within minutes of making their acquaintance, zeroed in on each of her suitors faults. Tom Marshall was too skinny. Bill Rainey's ears stuck out. Rob Dunbar thought he was funnier than he actually was. John Lester might have been all right--but he wasn't Allan, so Juliet hated him. She hated all of them and she might have liked them ever so much just a short time ago!  


She hashed out each date with her roommates . They talked into the wee hours. Trudy and Greta spent a lot of time trying to convince Juliet to give the boys who came calling a chance. They were all tact--no one mentioned that it was unlikely Allan would come back. But they all believed that was the case, deep down. Trudy pointed out that Rob Dunbar was very rich indeed, and Greta reminded her again how handsome John Lester was, and how many girls would love to have him take them out! And then Alice said, 

"There's always Blair King. He's supposed to be madly in love with you. Say, is it _true_ that you and him were caught kissing the night of the Sweetheart Dance?"

Juliet, horrified, searched her face for any hostility, but there was none--just a genuine curiosity. She flushed up to her ears and avoided meeting Trudy's hurt glance, and said, "Who _told_ you that? Was it Blair?"

"Georgia Miles saw you when she went out for a smoke," Alice said dismissively. "She walked out into the hall the same time as your Allan did. She remembers because she asked him for a light and he said he didn't smoke and she thought it was so odd--all the boys around here do." Alice pushed back her yellow curls with both hands, seeming to realize that she'd blundered into uncharted territory. "And then--they both noticed you and Blair--and she ducked back inside and she said Allan gave this little _laugh_ and turned on his heel. We all thought that was the reason he broke it off between you."

"It was after--_after_--that Blair--that I--I mean, when we--" Juliet trailed off, seeing color rise in Trudy's cheeks. "I'm sorry, Trudy, I forgot about him and Hannah"

"Oh, _keep_ forgetting Hannah," Trudy said angrily, jumping to her feet. "I couldn't care a whit for her! She doesn't deserve Blair anyway--she just wants him because he's dark and handsome. She doesn't even _know_ him!" 

"Then--what--are you mad at me for?" poor Juliet asked. 

"I'm mad because you didn't _tell_ me!" Trudy shouted. Trudy--sweet, docile Trudy--shouting? It was--surreal. "Me, your _best friend_! Or so I though. And because it's _so_ hypocritical--all this time, you've pretended you hated Blair King, and then you jump at him first chance you get. It--_sickens_ me! Ugh!" She grabbed her jacket and left the room, Greta following close after. She cast a sympathetic smile towards Juliet as if to say, "Don't worry. She'll calm down and things will soon be normal."

But Juliet did not think things would ever be normal again. Trudy hated her. She and Greta were probably talking about her right now, wherever they were. And Allan hated her. He _must_. He hadn't tried to get in contact with her. A wave of sudden shock rolled over Juliet--suppose Allan had seen her and Blair kissing and thought--thought that she was _glad_ to be rid of him. She slumped down to the floor and pressed her eyes closed, considering. There was no one--no one who loved her. What a mess she'd made of things!

And then Alice was there--Alice, saying in a soothing voice, "Shush, shush, don't worry. Won't it all be all right as rain soon? You'll see." Could this be Alice, smoothing her brow and murmuring comforting things into Juliet's ear? Even if they were not true they were just what she needed to hear and she felt solace. 

* * * 

There was a gay week after term ended spent in Doug and Bella's little house. Juliet actually enjoyed herself immensely. It was hard to be upset when there was a dear little baby around--a dear, chubby baby with fat knees and black curls--with the most beguiling little drooly smile and who made the world seem _new_ again. Little Embeth Kent worked like a balm on her aunt and soothed her ravaged soul. She was just beginning to babble. They all 

listened to her with the same marvel and awe as they would if Churchill gave a rousing call to arms in their kitchen. Embeth was creeping now, too--she crawled on the floor on all fours and carried things in her mouth like a little puppy dog. Juliet spent almost all of the pocket money she had on a small camera and took roll after roll of film of the little girl. 

"I'll never be able to afford to have all of this developed," she laughed. 

At night the grown-ups--in name only!--sat around the kitchen and talked. Juliet had finally told them all about the break-up--and Doug and Bella were aghast. Juliet parried their questions wearily but was not snappish--it would be so much worse when she got home. For it seemed Allan wasn't going to tell anyone himself. It was up to her. And she _must_ do something--she couldn't take much more of them all talking about and planning for a wedding that would never happen. 

Late that night Juliet heard a train whistle in the distance as it crossed over the railroad bridge nearby. The sound was high and haunting and made a pang in her heart. She was scheduled to fly home tomorrow. Why--oh why? For the first time in her life, Juliet realized, the thought of lovely old New Moon filled her not with happiness--but with dread. She did not want to go home. There were too many memories there. 

* * * 

A/N: Back! Thanks for being so patient with me. I was sick all last week and didn't feel much like writing. Marzoog, you had better update again soon and Terreis! Chris! Will! Ahem? You said you wouldn't keep us waiting for more than a few days! *stamps foot*

I hope that you all have a very merry Christmas/happy Hanukkah/whatever! Thanks for reading and giving me so many reviewsthey are the best presents!


	12. Home to New Moon

"What a delicious baby!" Juliet said to Joy Meredith--no, _Penhallow_-- as she touched the little rose-petal face of her baby daughter. "Oh, Joy! You're a mother--that's strange--and wonderful--and true! Haven't you always been a mother to this little girl? Since the dawn of time? Tell me, what are you going to call her? Have you decided yet? 

Juliet smiled and cooed down at the little face. The baby's eyes opened once--she blinked--she was not impressed. Juliet laughed--yes, laughed. She had been back at New Moon for almost a fortnight, and though it hadn't been easy at first it was becoming easier. How horrible the first few days had been, when she'd broken the news about her and Allan. Aunt Ilse had cried and Father had railed and Uncle Perry had called Allan up on the long distance and shouted. Mother had been very quiet and supportive but her smile was sad. As she explained, they weren't mad, just upset--both families had always expected that Allan and Juliet would end up together. 

The worst part of it was that because Juliet had promised not to tell anyone about Allan's dilemma she had had to make it seem like it was a mutual split--as if she, Juliet, thought it was a good idea that she and Allan not be married! When every part of her being wanted to have that to hope for. When she still loved him so much!  


Juliet shook her head to clear it, jiggled the baby and placed her back in her mother's arms. "Joy?" she said, putting her sun-browned hand on her friend's knee. "Why the long face? What _have_ you decided to name the baby?"

"Oh, Juliet, it's horrible!" Joy burst out, tears suddenly running down her cheeks. 

"How could anything be horrible? _Look_ at your baby girl!" 

"_This _is," Joy muttered through her sobs. 

Juliet's heart skipped a beat. "Joy, there isn't anything--wrong--with the baby, is there? No one said anything to me" 

"There's nothing wrong," Joy smiled through her tears. "Not with the baby at least. Not yet. She's perfect--I know I'm overreacting--but Juliet, they want--me and Jake--to name her--to name her--"

"Name her what?"

"After Grandfather," Joy wailed piteously. "Gilbertine! I--loved--Grandfather Blythe so--but--but--Gilbertine!"

"Gilbertine?" Juliet's jaw dropped. 

"Gil-ber-_tine_! Oh, Juliet and it gets worse."

"How could that possibly get worse?" Juliet asked, in real horror. Worse than _Gilbertine_? Gilbertine Penhallow! Juliet looked at the sleeping baby sadly. How dreadful! 

"Jake's family heard that we--might--we _might_--name the baby after Grandfather and they got all huffy. Jake's own mother died when he was young--they want us to name our little girl after _her_--and Juliet, her name was Gabrielle Alexandrina! Jake's sister already has a little Gabrielle, so they want us to call our baby--"

"Alexandrina?"

"Yes," Joy sobbed. "Oh, isn't it terrible?"  
  
Juliet leaned over to kiss the baby's little forehead, wrinkled in sleep as if she were worrying over her own fate. "Don't worry, little baby," she whispered. "You are _not_ going to be an Alexandrina, nor aGilbertine, not if your honorary Aunt has anything to say about it." To Joy she said, "What do _you_ want to name the baby?"

Joy was taken aback. No one had asked her that yet. "Well," she said bashfully. "Oh, Juliet, I do so want to name her Rose. Doesn't she look like a little red rose with her crimson hair and her little rosebud mouth? Rose Penhallow--middle name 'Anne' after Grandmother. Grandmother doesn't like her name--but I think it's so beautiful. What do you think?"

"Rose Anne Penhallow," Juliet said, tasting the words. "Why, Joy, that's your baby's name! Look how she's smiling in her sleep. She likes it! Hello, little Roseoh you weren't those other names at all. Here, Joy, take her. Now, don't get up--I'll go down and tell everyone that you've chosen your baby's name." 

"Oh, Juliet, don't"

"Gilbertine!" Juliet said warningly, and the baby began to cry. "Alexandrina?"

"Go," Joy said. 

Little Rose Anne Penhallow was christened by Joy's father, the Reverend Meredith one sunny Sunday afternoon in June, and Juliet Kent stood up as her godmother. When the reverend asked for the baby's name, her voice rang out strong and true. Everyone was so happy and joyful about the baby that both sides of the family forgot to be offended about the name. Besides--the little girl soon grew so chubby that her father called her Rolly Poly--changed to Polly, then shortened to Poll--and she went by that name until she was in her teens. So it really didn't matter after all if she _had_ been a Gilbertine or not. But as Kipling would say, the happenings of Poll Penhallow are , indeed, another story. 

The worst part of the day for Juliet was that Jake had invited his old friend from grade school to be the baby's godfather. It was very hard for Juliet to have Allan standing next to her the whole time. Her arms cradled little Rose and she did not turn her head to look at him at all. Once or twice one reached for the other's hand quite by accident--their fingers brushed--and they jumped apart as if an electric shock had gone through them. It was agonizing. 

Allan looked terrible--as if he hadn't slept for weeks. His skin under his freckles was so pale it was almost gray, and he'd lost weight--he was too skinny and gaunt. Juliet longed to go to him and throw her arms around him, pulling him close, but dared not. The whole time he offered her only one small, thin smile, and left without saying goodbye. 

That night Juliet peered through the trees in Lofty John's bush and saw one single light radiating through the trees--it was coming from Allan's room. It stayed on long into the night--hours after all the other lights in the house had gone off. Juliet saw his shadow moving up and down as he paced. Only after Allan's own room went dark, did Juliet turn her own lamp down and sleep. Deep into the night, the two that had once been lovers kept a strange and distant tryst. 

* * * 

Then, overnight, the pain seemed to go away. 

Juliet woke up one morning with a light heart. It was a beautiful summer day on the most beautiful home on the most beautiful Island in the world! She was wearing her pink muslin--and, as everyone knows, it's impossible to feel upset when you are wearing pink. 

So Allan didn't love her. Yes, there was a twinge somewhere, deep down. So he didn't want to marry her? Fine. Juliet was so happy today that she didn't care--she couldn't care! JohnLester was working on his aunt and uncle's farm in Carlisle, and dropped by often. So he wasn't Allan! She didn't care! He was nice enough in his own right and Juliet found herself liking him more and more each time she saw him. 

"I feel as if I'd been having a horrible nightmare these past months," she breathed. "And I've just woken up. Some especially terrifying parts of the dream linger still--but they'll soon go away."

Mother and Father were away in town, and Juliet cleaned the whole house for them, from top to bottom. She didn't have to, and most of the house didn't need it, but it did her soul good to make dirty things clean again, to sweep and scrub and polish and wash. 

She started in the basement in the morning and then worked her way up, ending in the New Moon garrett. How dusty it was up here! How ghostly with these big boxes stacked everywhere! Juliet peeked inside of one marked with her own name and pulled out a pair of tiny shoes. How strange it was to think she had ever been small enough to fit in them! She opened another that was filled with old sketchbooks of Father's, leafed through them for a while, then replaced them. 

The next box was filled to bursting with old notebooks and pieces of paper, marked simply, "Emily." Juliet unfolded one of the pieces of paper--it looked like an old letter-bill--and read the childish scrawl on the back. Written by Mother, when she was small--they were all written by Mother. She opened the first of the notebooks and read, in the same hand, 

__

New moon,

Blair water,

P. E. island.

October 8th.

I am going to write a diary, that it may be published when I die.

"Wonderful," Juliet breathed, and for the rest of the afternoon, read. She read about Mother coming to New Moon after the death of her father, she read about Aunt Elizabeth and Aunt Laura and Cousin Jimmy and Aunt Ruth. She read about Mother meeting Aunt Ilse for the first time, and the strange occurrence when Mother had been sick, when they found Ilse's mother in the old well. By the time the sun was going down she had finished the first of the diaries and 'Jimmy-books'--all of them up to the time that Mother went away to Shrewsbury High School. She sat for a while in the twilight and thought. Then Juliet said, contemplatively,

"I wonder--if I could write--a _book_ about Mother?"


	13. Decisions

Juliet decided she _would_ write a book about Mother--just as she had written that story for history class about Lofty John and the poisoned apple. It would not be fiction--it would be the true account of Mother's early years--from the time she came to New Moon until she went away to Shrewsbury to live with Aunt Ruth. She modelled it on Laura Ingalls Wilder's marvelous _Little House_ book, the first of which had come out earlier that year. Juliet relied totally on Mother's diaries and Jimmy-books and character sketches, and on old stories she had heard over the years, told by Aunt Ilse and Uncle Perry and Uncle Dean. 

She would call it _Emily of New Moon_. 

The book was written in six weeks, and Juliet finished it one sunny afternoon and felt suddenly bereft. What to do now? She could show it to Mother--or she could type it up, and send it off to a publisher. The thought hit her suddenly like a ton of bricks, and another door of possibility opened up. That's exactly what she would do! For another week Juliet labored over an old type-writer in her room, typing each page out perfectly. When it was done she bundled up her manuscript and typed a short letter. 

__

Dear Sirs, 

I have here a manuscript which recounts my mother's life as a small girl on a Canadian farm at the turn of the century. I do hope that you will read it and give it consideration--I hope you won't mind me saying it, but you have very few books aimed at inspiring young girls. It is a gap in the market that sorely needs to be filled. Also, perhaps some of my mother's readers would enjoying hearing about her when she was a young girl? It is my first book, but I hope that you enjoy it, at least, a little. 

Yours very sincerely, 

Juliet Starr Kent

It was a very stilted letter, but Juliet had never done this before, and it was the best she could do, under the circumstances. 

"I suppose now I sit back and wait," she mused, after braving another encounter with Mrs. Drew at the post-office to send it off. Mrs. Drew, judging from the size and heft of the package, knew right away it was a book--and it was addressed to _Warehams_, who had published so many of Emily Starr's books over the years. The biggest and best publishing house in the United States--my, my! Oh, well--like Mother, like daughter, she supposed. It was just like the Starrs to sit around penning novels when there was real work to be done. 

* * * 

Juliet came in from a party one balmy night in late August, picked up her pen, and wrote her old chum Trudy Ford a letter. 

__

Dear Tru, she wrote, 

How glad I am that we're speaking again! These past months have been bad without you--there was a dull ache that wouldn't go away and the terrible feeling that I did wrong and ought to apologize but was too stubborn to. When I finally did--what a weight off my chest! That's how you can tell if you're wrong or not--if you apologize, and there's a weight off, then you were_. And just when we got on good terms you had to go visit your Aunt Persis in New York! I'm writing this to remind you to have a wonderful timewell, that's _one_ of the reasons. Friend of my heart, I'm glad we're speaking again, because I have news. Tonight, 20 August 1946, at Alice Bell's party, at nine-thirty P.M., John Andrew Lester proposed marriage to one very shocked and surprised Juliet Kent. _

Oh, Trudy, we have_ been spending a lot of time together, me and John. He's a wonderful chap--did I ever not like him? Did I say his ears stick out? They don't. He is perfectly interesting and funny and he never laughs at his own jokes and his ears lay flat against his head in the most bewitching way. Yes, I love even his ears. But do I love him? Mother asked me this and I said, "I _think_ so." _

"There is no think_ with love," Mother said, like some kind of perverse Descartes. _

"I think I'm afraid to admit it, Mother, because of--because of--" And then I let my words trail off. But I'll finish them for you now, as you've no doubt already done. Because of Allan. 

No, not Allan. John. I have given up on Allan and have almost learned how not to love him anymore. And Trudy, I've gotten so much better! When I'm with John I can think of John and how I love_ the way his black hair curls over his collar, and how I _love_ the way his eyes sparkle and snap, and how dark and chocolate-y brown they are, and how I _love _the way he's content to spend an evening sitting on the porch, staring up at the stars--and how I _may or may not_ love _him. _That's what we were doing tonight when he proposed: staring up at the stars and picking our favorites out of the bunch. I always pick Vega of the Lyre because of that old story about Mother and Father. John always picks the North Star--because it is best and biggest and brightest. _

"You_ are my North_ Starr_," he grinned, making a pun on my name. "You guide my way and keep me on the right path. Juliet, wouldn't you like a star more than anything on earth--to be able to reach up and pluck one out of the sky and wear it like a diamond?"_

"Yes," I said, thrilling at the thought. 

John pulled a little velvet box from his jacket pocket and opened it for me. 

"This was the best I could do," he said, showing what was inside to me. 

Trudy, it was the biggest diamond I have ever seen! It would have dwarfed my poor hand if I'd put it on. But I didn't. I covered my face with my hands and began --to my horror--to cry. I was thinking about the other two proposals I've had--one from Allan and one from Blair. I'd never had this heart-heavy feeling before. But then, the others hadn't worked out. Maybe this was a sign all was right? I thought about how it would feel to say yes to John--to wear his ring--the look on Allan's face when someone told him the news. The look on Allan's face. How much I love his darling face. The whole while I was thinking I was crying and John was looking at me in consternation. 

I shall never have Allan. I know that. And I do care deeply for John. So I said, 

"I could never marry you, John, until I was finally over Allan Miller. And I still feel--as if I hardly know you. I had my whole life to get to know Allan, you see--a few months with you seem like so little._"_

"I know that," John said. "We can wait--as long as you like."

"I'd want to graduate from college, too," I said regretfully, poised to hand the ring back to him. So many men don't think college is important for women but I do_. _

"I know," John said again. "I'd want you to, too. You're brilliant, Juliet--it's part of the reason why I want you as my wife."

There was a word on my tongue and I ached to say it. Can you guess what it was? But on a whim I decided to go with the opposite of what my heart said. 

Trudy, I said yes. I'm going to marry John Lester next year. Mother and Father are pretending to be happy for me but Aunt Ilse cried and Uncle Perry was very angry. I called Doug and he was confused--I've forgotten to tell him anything about John Lester at all! So I had to fill him in. I wrote Greta today, too--and Alice--but I can't muster the strength to ring Bea. That would make it too real. I'll do it later. I'm not sure exactly how I feel but I really care for John so I want to feel glad. 

Tru, write me back and let me know if you think I've done the right thing. Oh, but please, please don't let me know if you think I've done the wrong!

Your friend (who will love you forevermore),

JULIET


	14. Love Affairs Are Horrible

"Friends, I'm back!" cried a happy Juliet as she unlocked the door to the tower room and burst in. She was glad--gladder than glad--to be back at school. It was her final year of study--she wanted to throw herself into her work--to get lost in it--to prove to all of them, and herself, that a she, a woman, _could_ be a worthwhile student. "I will make something of myself," she vowed, as she dropped her bags and let her eyes adjust to the dim surroundings. 

And then Juliet heard two gasps of surprise at her hectic arrival. One was Trudy's--Juliet saw her creamy face coloring in embarrassment--and the other must have belonged to the tall, dark man bending over her. They were in each other's arms. 

"Trudy--and _Blair_!" Juliet cried, amazed. "What--what--who--?"

"Dearest of friends, close your gaping mouth," Trudy said, recovering, and giving a small laugh. "Sit, rest from your journey, and I'll explain it all. I'll see you at chow time, darling."

The last part was tossed off handedly at Blair, who grinned and departed with a kiss. The moment the door closed behind him Juliet sprang from her seat and danced around the room, laughing and clapping her hands. 

"I _knew_ you had a thing for him--I knew it--I knew it!" 

"The mystic Madame Juliet sees all," Trudy said impishly, rolling her eyes. "If you can contain yourself I'll tell you how it happened."

"What about Hannah?" Juliet wanted to know. "Oh, Trudy, you're a _bad_ sister!" 

"Hang Hannah," Trudy mock-growled. "She can't have my man--what's more , she doesn't even want him. She wrote at the end of last term that she's been seeing Jonah Davis all year. He works for Father, over at the House of Dreams, doing odd jobs, and because Hannah was on house arrest because of her grades, he's the only contact she had with the outside world. They fell madly in love and will be married next August. But she won't beat _me_. I'm going to be married in July. Look at this!" Trudy flaunted her tiny diamond for Juliet's approving eyes. 

"You--and Blair--it's too funny," said Juliet, who was giggling helplessly. "Tell me what happened."

"Of course I've loved him all along," said Trudy, like a child reciting her lessons. "Blair got his letter from Hannah and rang the House of Dreams immediately--to speak to me. He told me that now he was free, and he wanted nothing more than to come right over and tell me so in person. I told _him_ he'd better come over and do more than that--I've waited for him long enough. He said he'd loved me all along but didn't want to break poor Hannah's heart. When Hannah hadn't cared a whit for him for months! Oh, Juliet, I'm going to be Mrs. Blair King--and you're going to be Mrs. John Lester! Let me see _your_ ring--it's huge! Don't you feel old, darling--gloriously grown-up and mature?"

"Yes--and Alice wrote this summer that she's engaged to a boy back home," Juliet giggled. "_Dear_ Alice--did you ever think you'd hear me say those words?"

"We must be very kind to Greta," said Trudy, caressing her ring, "And careful not to rub it in. Oh, it's wonderful to be engaged, isn't it, Juliet? I feel like I've got my whole life stretched in front of me to the horizon--and all things are possible." 

Juliet nodded and gave her friend a hug, but she secretly envied Trudy her enthusiasm. _She_ didn't feel like all things were possible, she felt like a door had closed quite suddenly in her face. She almost come to terms with things on the way to the airport--John had been so nice and romantic when he left her the week before. He'd said things that made her knees knock with pleasure . Juliet was beginning to muster up a bit of enthusiasm for their union--she met Mrs. Lester and John's sisters, Doreen and Kate, and they were all beautiful and loving and _good_. Yesterday she was _sure_ she could be quite happy with John. But today, as she went to place her bags on the luggage check, she thought she saw a familiar shaggy blond head--a well-known freckled face--and she would always know that easy walk--

"Hello, Juliet," said Allan Miller, looking as if he'd seen a ghost. 

"Allan!" said Juliet, her be-ringed hand going reflexively deep into her coat pocket, where it could not be seen. "What are _you_ doing here?" Oh, of all the luck! Allan was the last person Juliet wanted to see--yet she was strangely elated to see him.

"I'm seeing off a friend. Carol Weatherby's going to Quebec City. You?"  


"Going back to school, of course. It's almost the beginning of the term but I couldn't bear to leave lovely New Moon. Who's Carol Weatherby?" The words were out in a rush before Juliet could stop them. She could have bitten the end of her tongue off. She had promised herself time and time again that when she and Allan met she would be calm and aloof. Not stampeding over him with curiosity, all flustered and hot-faced.

"You don't know him," Allan said, with a slight grin. "Yes, Juliet, _him_. C-A-R-R-O-L-L, short for Carrollton. His father owns the bank I work in."

"Oh," said Juliet, flushing even more crimson. "I just assumed"

"It's my turn now," Allan said, and looked at her. "Who's John Lester?"

"Don't tease me," said Juliet furiously. "How dare you ask me that? _You_ have no right to know--you didn't want me--and he does."

"I didn't expect you to go out and get engaged to the first man who came along!" 

Juliet gasped. "Well I'm sorry to disappoint you, Allan!" 

Allan asked, very quietly, "Are you _really_ going to marry him, Juliet?"

The two stared at each other hotly, neither moving. Then Allan told hold of Juliet's left hand and pulled it gently out of her pocket. The huge diamond that John had given her glittered and twinkled on her finger. 

"We are," said Juliet miserably. "We're going to be married in May, I think. John's going to buy his aunt and uncle's farm in Avonlea. They want to go West. I'm glad--Avonlea is beautiful--and I couldn't bear to be too far from New Moon. Oh, Allan"

"_Don't_ say you're sorry," said Allan, something loosening in his shoulders. "You haven't done anything wrong. Well, you're right, I really have no call to be jealous. Except that I'll always love you. _I'm_ sorry, Juliet. Congratulations, and I hope that he's good enough for you."

"He is," Juliet said, through a veil of tears. "He's wonderful."  


"I hope he can make you as happy as I couldn't." Allan gave her a small kiss on the cheek. "Have a good term--good bye, darling."

"Allan--you _did_ make me happy!" Juliet cried suddenly as he made his way through the crowds. She couldn't let Allan leave without knowing that. She saw him wave over his shoulder, without looking, in response, but then he disappeared. 

* * * 

"What are you thinking of, darlingest of girls?" John asked as he puller her closer. Juliet let her head rest on his shoulder as they swayed to the music that was pouring from the speakers of Alice's new record player, set up in the brand-new Student Union building. They'd organized an impromptu dance to celebrate. 

Juliet sighed. What _had_ she been thinking of? She'd been wondering if John liked her new dress. It was a rose colored cotton with denim trim. She'd been reasoning how long it would be before she could pretend to be tired and ask John to leave. She'd been thinking about all the other dances she'd been to in her life--so many of them, and she was still so young! Hundreds of them--maybe thousands. Or so it seemed. There were Trudy and Blair, dancing so close that it looked as if they'd melted into each other. All of the campus gossip was focused on them--they were such an unlikely couple! Juliet was glad it was not focused on John and _her_. 

"I was thinking about how much I love you," Juliet lied, but when she said it it almost became true. "And how much I love dancing with you--but I need a break. Why don't you ask Allan to dance--I'm going out for some air."

"Ask _who_ to dance?" John was looking at her queerly. "You said 'Allan.'"

"Did I?" Juliet laughed frantically. "I meant A_lice_. There she is, over by the refreshments. Be right back."

She burst out onto the porch with a great, whooshing sigh of relief. One more moment in there and she would have screamed--or suffocated. Juliet sat down on the porch with a thump. 

"Oh, _stop_ feeling sorry for yourself!" came a voice from the shadows. 

Juliet looked over and gasped. "Greta! I didn't know you were out here."

"Well, I am," said Greta coolly, coming over to sit beside her. "And I know just what you're thinking--stop. "

"You couldn't know what I was thinking," Juliet laughed. "I was thinking about Trudy's grandmother. How wonderful it must be to be her age and have all of your big decisions behind you. I wish you could know Mrs. Blythe, Greta--she radiates such peace. But then, she always has. I wonder if she's ever been unsure of a decision she was making? I was thinking now that I would like to ask her how she knew that what she was doing was _right_."

"There are dozens of girls--hundreds of them--who would give their right arms to have John Lester looking at them the way he looks at you," Greta said seriously. "I know--because I'm one of them."

"Greta! You--you--"

"Yes, me," Greta laughed. "I love him. And you've got him, and it burns me up to see that you don't appreciate him--no pun on my name intended. "

"Oh, I wish there was something I could do," said poor Juliet, the wheels in her head spinning. 

"Don't you dare use me as an excuse to make this decision for you," Greta laughed. "If you do, I'll kill you. I won't be anyone's scapegoat. I only want him if you decide for yourself that you don't."

"I don't know what to do," Juliet confessed. "I know I _should_ want him, Greta--but I want someone else entirely. Someone I can't have."

"Let's go in," Greta said. "I love this song. You'll let me dance with your _beloved_ for just this one dance, won't you, Juliet? I promise not to put the moves on him and this one encounter will give me enough fodder for daydreams to last until Christmas. Oh Juliet, remember--'what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive'--even ourselves. Come on, dearie. Try to cheer up--you'll know what to do when you have to do it."

"Love affairs are horrible, aren't they?" Juliet murmured to the night after Greta had gone in. The night had no response except for a small breeze in the treetops, so Juliet answered herself: "They really, truly are."


	15. Juliet Has a Revelation

One sunny October day Juliet found herself going up the walk to the Lester home in Montreal—she had been invited to a tea party that John's mother was throwing. It really was a magnificent home! Juliet sometimes forgot how rich the Lesters were—they had much more money than the Kents, althought Juliet and Douglas had never been lacking for anything. A row of white columns stretched up on either side of the door and the lawn was perfectly manicured. Yes, it _was_ a lawn—such a velvety green jewel-colored patch of grass could never be referred to as a yard. 

"But _they_ don't have an apple-barn—or a summer house—or a graveyard," Juliet said to herself as she rang the bell. The thought encouraged her a little, and when she was ushered in to the parlor full of beautifully groomed ladies, she was able to greet them all with a sparkling smile. 

"Juliet! Darling!" Doreen and Kate, John's sisters, rushed to embrace her, and Mrs. Lester's formal nod and smile was a bit less stiff than usual. 

"How _are_ you today?" quieried Kate.

"I love your dress!" Doreen gushed. "Those little demin bows are so _cute_."

Then they introduced Juliet to the bevy of ladies. Mrs. Edsall—Mrs. Mayer—Mrs. Jones—and Mrs. Dr. Thompson—the best and brightest gentlewomen that Montreal society had to offer. Juliet felt as if she ought to curtsey—but didn't. That would be ridiculous, of course. People didn't curtsey nowadays. She settled for shaking each one's hand, firmly, with a smile. 

They were seated, and a uniformed maid brought in trays of tea and paper-thin sandwiches. Mrs. Lester poured a cup for each one and as the ladies ate and drank the topic of conversation turned to local gossip. Juliet settled back in her chair and listened—she knew none of the names, but the chatter and conspiratorial tones were almost like being home and listening to Mother and Aunt Ilse—_almost_. 

Someone's daughter had had a baby—someone else's had moved to Chicago—many dresses that had been made were described. 

"Did you hear that Rachel Wood tried to commit suicide _again_?" questioned one of the ladies—Mrs. Edsall, Juliet thought—with an aggreived air. 

"Again!" exclaimed Mrs. Dr. Thompson with the same annoyed tone. "When everyone knows it's just a cry for attention. The last time she nearly died—and that was only six months ago—you'd think that would be enough excitement to last her for the rest of the year, at least."

"The poor woman!" Juliet gasped in real horror. 

Seven pairs of eyes were trained on her in astonishment. 

"Poor!" Mrs. Mayer said with a nasally laugh. "Robert Wood is the richest man in Montreal—not that you'd know it from the way his wife dresses. But there is a rumour going round that he gives her an _allowance_. Imagine!" 

"How terrible," said Juliet sympathetically. "To have her money parcelled out by her husband."

"Terrible!" Mrs. Mayer lifted one eyebrow. "Dear, it is her husband's money, to do with as he sees fit. Although Rachel _has_ been making noises about getting a job, to supplement her income."

The ladies made clucking noises, to denote that _that_ really was a tragedy. 

"Why shouldn't she get a job?" A little imp inside of Juliet made her question. 

"Dear me!" said Mrs. Thompson. "_You_ don't plan on working outside the home when you're married to John! _Do_ you?"

"She most certainly does _not,_" said Mrs. Lester firmly before Juliet could respond. "But back to Rachel Wood—I'm not surprised. Her aunt committed suicide _three times_!"

"Wasn't once enough?" The same imp had the words out of Juliet's mouth before she could help herself. The ladies stared at her as if she were a foreign body, set down from outer space in the living room. 

"Your mother works for a living, doesn't she, dear?" questioned sweet-faced Mrs. Jones of Juliet. "Writing books, I heard?"

"Yes," said Juliet stirring her tea. 

"What kind of books?"

"Well...novels, actually. And poetry, of course."

"Novels!" said Mrs. Thompson in a shocked voice. "Well, well!"

"And your father?" asked Mrs. Mayer, of Juliet—whose face was beginning to redden. 

"He's an artist. He owns a studio in town, near New Moon—that's the name of our house."

"Oh yes—you live on a _farm_, don't you?" Mrs. Thompson made it sound as ridiculous as if Juliet had been raised on the moon. 

"It's a very lovely farm," Doreen said, patting Juliet's hand. "John's shown us pictures. There's a lovely cloud of spruce that surrounds it. Oh, Katie, we _must_ go and visit this summer! I've been aching for a real vacation and Papa says we won't be going to the lakes next year after all."

"Yes!" Kate agreed. "We must. The Island is so...quaint! Isn't that the word indeed! But so remote. I _am_ glad that John's decided to stay in the city after you're married, Juliet, aren't you?"

"John—stay in the city?" Juliet placed her cup down on her saucer with trembling hands. "But—he said—I thought he would buy his aunt and uncle's farm in Avonlea?"

"Oh yes, of course," laughed Doreen. "As a summer home, perhaps. But you didn't expect him to live there year round, did you? Papa will most likely build you two a house—quite near here, I expect. Mama can't have John _too_ far away. She simply couldn't _live_ without him!"

This revelation shocked Juliet into silence for the rest of the tea. When the clock struck four she rose and faced the assembly of ladies. 

"I've got to be going, Mrs. Lester," she said. "The last train back to campus leaves at four-thirty. But thank you for having me to tea. I've had—a delightful time."

She took her coat from the maid who appeared like magic and fairly flew out of the door. 

"How terrible _that_ was!" she said as she hustled to the station. 

When she was halfway there, Juliet's hand flew to her head in surprise. Her hat! She'd been in such a hurry to leave that she'd forgotten it! Juliet knew she could have John get it for her the next time she was home—but it was such a _nice_ hat—a midnight blue velvet—and she did so want to wear it to church services on Sunday! Perhaps—if she hurried—she could get it?

Juliet ran all the way back to the Lesters' house. By the time she got there her hair had escaped from its clasp and her face was red. She was huffing and puffing and waited a moment before ringing the bell—she wanted to catch her breath. 

"Poor dear," a voice came from the open window out onto the front step. "She really _thought_ John would stay on the Island after they were married! You could see on her face how devestated she was."

"She must really love her home," Mrs. Jones's kind voice floated out on the air. "I've been to New Moon—Elizabeth Murray and I were friends in our girlhood—and it was a lovely place. I can see why she doesn't want to leave it." 

Juliet started—they were talking about her! She stayed very still. Mrs. Lester's voice rang out next. 

"Juliet Kent is a bit common," she sighed. "_I_ wouldn't have picked her for _my_ son. We all hoped John would marry Mary Ann Marsh. _Her_ father is a judge. But he threw her over when he heard Juliet had been jilted."

"I've always thought it was _very _dangerous to take up with a girl who'd been jilted," Mrs. Mayer said thoughtfully. "I mean, there's a reason the other fellow didn't want her!"

The ladies laughed jovially.

"She's not a pretty girl—but I suppose John sees something in her," Mrs. Lester admitted. "There is _something_ bewitching about her—even I cannot deny it. But—I don't believe she cares anything for John!"

"And oh, Doris, I _do_ believe she intends to _work_ once she is married!" Mrs. Thompson maoned to Mrs. Lester. "What if she writes _novels_—like her Mother? They say she's submitted stories to the literary magazine—but Juliet might outgrow _that_. It is too bad that John's infatuated with her. I always hoped he'd take my Sarah."

"Did you _see _what she was wearing, Mama?" Doreen laughed nastily. "That dress—with those ridiculous little bows—it looked positively home-made!"

This barb pierced Juliet's armor and her pride smarted. She'd really liked pretty, fun, Doreen—and she'd thought Doreen had liked her, too. Juliet didn't bother ringing the bell—she opened the door and burst into the hallway, and from there stepped into the parlor. 

"Juliet! You're back!" laughed Kate in fright. "We—didn't—hear the doorbell."

"I often forget to ring it," said Juliet loftily. "Being as _common_ as I am. I suppose the doorbell is too modern for someone as provincial as _I_."

If her words had left any doubt that she had heard what the ladies said, the black look on her face put the finally nail in the coffin. Juliet had never used it before but now she was quite sure that the Murray look blazed out from her face. She grabbed her hat and started again for the door. 

"Won't you—stay—for dinner?" asked Mrs. Lester, her usually composed brow wrinkling. "You're not going to be able to get back to your train tonight."

"I'll call a friend to pick me up," Juliet said, staring the older woman down. "Besides," she said impishly. "I've got work at campus that I simply _must _attend to. I'm in the middle of a _novel_—"

And then she was gone. She ran to the train station and was able to hop on just as it was pulling out. 

"Now I can think this over," said Juliet to herself as the train hurtled through the falling twilight. "I suppose I _am_ common compared to them—but I don't think so—I think I'm richer than all of _them _are. And I'm proud of Mother—and Father—and I _don't_ write novels! And I thought my dress was cute—but it _is_ home-made. What's wrong with that, though? Oh, well. You can't please everyone at once."

She leaned her chin on her hand and stared out at the moving landscape. 

"I don't want to be like them," she murmured. "Will I be like those old bats in twenty years if I marry John? And could he really be planning on staying in the city? Perhaps that is just a case of our wires getting crossed—but I _can't _live away from the Island! And I'd like to work—to earn my own keep—even when I am a missus. What's wrong with that? What hurts the most is that one thing Mrs. Lester said was at least _partly _true," Juliet lamented. "I _do _care for John—but I don't love him. And I never will. And—I don't think I can marry him, after all." 


	16. The Greatest Gift of All

But Juliet was guilty of terrible cowardice after that. To her dying day she would be ashamed of it—but she _couldn't_ break it off with John. He did love her—at least, she thought he did—and it would kill him. And he was so exhausted, studying for his exams. And it was rumoured that a terrible temper "ran" in the Lester family! Juliet quaked in her boots and pretended everything was fine—for the time being. 

"I'll tell him in the New Year," she vowed pathetically. "I—wouldn't—want to have this hanging over him and spoil his Christmas."

All the same, she was glad to go home to New Moon at the end of term. John would be in Avonlea on 1 January—he was to help his aunt and uncle prepare for their move West. 

Oh, she was glad—glad!—that he wouldn't be there for Christmas!

And she was glad to be back at New Moon. It was so wonderful to bask in the warmth from the broad kitchen hearth—to have Aunt Ilse fuss over her hair and dress—to have Uncle Perry to banter with—to have the light from Father's smile shine over her. It did Juliet's heart good to sit up late at night talking things over with Mother—Juliet could not bring herself to air her concerns about marrying John. Or the lingering feelings she still felt for Allan. But it was so nice to have her near—somehow things did not seem so bad whenever Mother was near. Only—didn't Mother seem a bit more pale and wan than usual? She was definitely quieter—and there was a lingering cough and hoarseness in her voice left over from a cold earlier in the season. 

Truth be told, they were all worried about Emily. Teddy Kent consulted the doctor quietly and was told to keep close eye on her—she was not yet ill enough to go to the hospital, but her cough might easily turn into pneumonia. Teddy and Ilse tried to convince her to go to the hospital for tests—or to at least rest more—but Emily would have none of it. She had a new book coming out in the spring—she had presents to shop for and mail off to Doug and Bella—and there was a Christmas dinner to prepare. 

"Besides," Mother said, with her nose in the air, "A Murray of New Moon has _never_ gone to the hospital when ill. I'm fine. Just under the weather, is all."

But it was really much worse than that. Juliet and Emily were preparing the Christmas goose when there was a horrible hacking in Emily's chest—her breath rasped in her throat—she crumpled to the ground in a small, pitiful white heap. Teddy heard his daughter's cries from the barn and found Juliet huddled over her mother, with a very white face. 

There was no question of the hospital now—Emily was far too ill to be moved. The doctor visited her in the spare bedroom, which had been made into a makeshift sick room. When he lifted his head from listening to her chest, his face was grave. 

"She has pneumonia," he said. "She's had it for some time—I can't believe we didn't catch it before. It's grave, Kent, very grave. If she wasn't so sick I'd have her in hospital immediately. But as is now, she might not survive the journey. If I were you—"

Here the good doctor stopped. There was no easy way to tell this man and his daughter, whose eyes were like two wholes burnt in a blanket, to brace themselves for the worse. Besides, Emily Kent had the Murray constitution—there was a chance she might pull through this. 

Besides, he did not really need to say anything. They all _knew_. Uncle Perry slipped quietly into town to send an emergency telegram to Douglas and Bella. They would want the chance to see Emily again before—well, they would want to see her. Aunt Ilse took over control of the house. She forced Teddy and Juliet to eat—but the latter ate next to nothing, and grew as pale as her sick Mother in the days that followed. 

Mother was pale and unconscious most of the time—and when she did wake up she knew not where she was. Juliet was afraid to leave her side. Once, waking, she gazed up at Juliet and cried out. 

"Oh!" she said. "Emily-in-the-glass, why do you look so worried?"

"It's me, Mother," said Juliet desperately. "Juliet! Oh, Mother, you're going to be fine—and Douglas is on his way to see you now, because he loves you so."

"Mr. Douglas Starr—on the road to heaven," Mother murmured feverishly. "He said he'd wait—Father said he'd go very slowly and wait for me to catch up—I wonder if he's waiting yet?"

Late on Christmas eve her breathing slowed even more and her heartbeats grew very faint and slow. The doctor ushered them all out. "Tonight is the breaking point," the doctor said seriously. "She'll either get the turn, or—she won't." To Teddy he said, "I'd watch your girl, if I was you. She's looking very peaked herself—very weak."

So Juliet was ordered to bed. But she could not sleep. Late—it must have been very late—she thought she heard a bell tolling, far away. Didn't that mean there would be a death soon? 

"What would we do without Mother?" she sobbed into her pillow. "Oh, God, You _couldn't_ let it happen! Oh God—oh please—oh Allan!" 

She barely knew what she was saying she was so upset. Gradually, her tears subsided and she slept fitfully, only to be awakened by a heavy knock at the front door. Juliet shivered and jumped out of bed—she crept down the stairs—she had a sudden, ridiculous premonition that it was _Death_ at the door, coming for Mother. The sun was just beginning to touch the eastern sky. The stars were out yet—the tide was going out. Hadn't someone once said that every tide the tide went out it took with it a soul—one soul—taking it far out over the bar to the sea?

The heavy knock sounded again and Juliet braced herself. "I won't be ridiculous—and superstotious," she said. "It's probably only Douglas." She flung the door wide open.

It wasn't Douglas—it was Allan—with a very pale face and worried eyes. Wordlessly, he and Juliet fell into each others' arms. 

"How did you know?" Juliet wept. "How did you know I needed you?"

"You—called me," Allan said, looking amazed. "I wasn't coming home for Christmas—I didn't think I was up for it—I was laying in my bed and I heard you cry, 'Oh Allan!' Before I even knew what I was doing I was in the car, driving here. I drove all night. Juliet—Juliet—Aunt Emily isn't—?"

"No—not yet," Juliet said dully. "Oh, Allan—she couldn't! She won't—will she?"

"No," Allan said fervently, holding her close. "No."

They stayed that way for a long while—they heard a solemn tread on the stairs and looked up—but still, neither of them moved. It was the doctor, coming down with a tired face. Allan held her close and he and Juliet waited, hardly breathing, fearing the worst.

"She—" the good doctor began, and then cleared his throat and allowed a triumphant look to creep into his eyes, "She will live. Thank God—thank God, it's a miracle. She's resting now."

He went back up and Allan and Juliet faced each other with joyful eyes. When Juliet looked at Allan she gasped—she saw something she had not seen before, when he had come. The tortured look that had been there before was gone. His face was relaxed—this was the old Allan—Allan before the war had touched him. Yes, there were small lines around his eyes and every now and again a hint of worry and sorrow would touch him—from time to time—for the rest of his life. But Juliet could see in his eyes that he was capable again of feeling joy—and happiness—she took his face in her hands. 

"Allan!" she cried. "It's you—you're back!" She laughed delightedly. "Oh friend—friend—I am glad! It's another miracle—two Christmas miracles—how could I ever have thought God wasn't _good_?"

* * * 

There were no presents—there was no Christmas goose—but it was the best Christmas ever. Juliet flew through the house with wings on her feet. She was allowed to visit with Mother for a few minutes—but only a few minutes. She welcomed Douglas and Bella and set up little Embeth's cot in her own room over the stairs. How darling she was, toddling through the stately old rooms of New Moon! How wonderful that they were all together for Christmas and that Mother was out of danger!

Douglas went into town for provisions for their meal and came back with the mail from the past few days. To Juliet he handed a parcel wrapped with string and a long flat box. One was a necklace of pearls, sent by John. They were beautiful but it was a reserved beauty—Juliet held them for a while and then put them back in the box. She'd made a promise to herself when Mother had been ill—she would no longer live a lie. She would tell John everything. She could not accept his gift because she could not—would not—marry him. 

She unwrapped the parcel in wonderment. Who could it be from? Her eyes scanned the letter that was enclosed—she pulled out a leather-bound book—then gave a cry of joy and sprang up the stairs to Mother's room.

Emily Kent was sitting up in bed gazing out the window. How wonderful to be alive another day in this marvelous world! She glanced up only when Juliet appeared in the doorway like a wild woman, breathing heavily, her face astar. 

"My book!" she half laughed, half cried. "Mother—I forgot—I've written a book—about _you_, Mother! _Emily of New Moon_! And—Warehams has published it! Oh, Mother, look!"

Together they leafed through the volume. On the frontspiece was a the simple watercolor painting that Father had done of Mother in her youth. Together, the two women read the words inside and leafed through pages gingerly, as if reading a sacred text. It _was_ a sacred text to them. Emily's eyes filled and she looked at her daughter. 

"Juliet, Juliet!" she said, laughing. "I hadn't thought of half of those stories in years. You darling girl—I today as if God has given me my life back—and you have given me my past. Juliet—I'm proud of you."

"I'm proud of _you_," said Juliet as earnestly as she had when she had been a child. She placed her hand on Mother's knee and looked at her with love in her slate-blue eyes. "I'm going to write more books about you—I'll start another one today—about your Shrewsbury years, and how you conquered the Alpine Path. And oh, Mother—I'm going to call it _Emily Climbs_!"


	17. A Tryst with Fate

On New Years Eve Allan Miller came to collect Juliet from New Moon for an afternoon ramble as he had done so many times before in his life. Emily and Ilse watched them go through the parlor window--Emily was making a rapid, amazing recovery and was already well enough to sit up all day and have visitors. They watched until the two disappeared into the Lofty John's bush, walking so close that their shoulders touched, and occasionally clinging to each other when the path became too slick with ice. 

"Oh please," Ilse murmured under her breath as Allan parted the spruce boughs for Juliet and helped her in. "Oh Emily--they 're perfect for each other--they will realize it in time, won't they?"

Emily said nothing--she only smiled a happy, mysterious smile. 

* * * 

Juliet was smiling too--she was enraptured by Allan's closeness--the peace that fell between the two of them--the mystery and allure of the lovely spruce wood. The late afternoon sun slanted in through their branches, turning everything an exquisite, jeweled green.

"'The woods are lovely, dark and deep,'" she quoted, breathing in the tangy smell of sap. "'But I have promises to keep--'"

"'And miles to go before I sleep,'" Allan finished, his smile fading somewhat. "Oh, Juliet, I have something to tell you--"

"But I want to ask something, first," Juliet said, tucking her mittened hand in his. "Let's sit--my feet are frozen solid. Allan, dearest--what happened? You seem so much better now--happier--how is that? How did it come about?"

"I--don't--know," Allan admitted. "I suppose I've been getting better all the time--the fact that I'm home helps. I still think about the war--often. But the moment I turned up at the doorstep of New Moon--and you opened it--when I saw your face all the sorrow and torment in my heart melted. Juliet, how could I have thought I ever could have existed without you? I know you're engaged to John Lester--but I need you in my life, even if it's only as friends. Although--I wouldn't mind if you wanted more?"

There was a sweet questioning note in his voice. Juliet thrilled to hear it. "What did you want to tell me?" she asked, leaning companionably against him. 

"I got a job--at the bank," Allan said miserably. "At the San Francisco branch. I leave at the start of next week. Everyone knows--I asked them not to tell you, though--I wanted to tell you in person."

Juliet felt the frozen feeling that had started in her feet move all the way through her. "Oh," she said in a small, hollow voice. "Oh."

"Juliet, Juliet!" Allan grasped her hand, and then turned her face so that she could look at him. "I asked them not to tell you because I wanted to get my courage up to ask you something myself. I know I have no right to ask anything of you--but Juliet, I love you! Won't you come with me, to California? As my wife? Say you will!"

* * * 

Juliet was silent for a long while. Allan thought perhaps she was very angry--her face was troubled, her brow wrinkled. After all, she was betrothed to another man! But then Juliet laughed, and lifted sparkling eyes to his. 

"How soon can you get a marriage license?" she queried. 

"What--what?" said a surprised Allan. 

"How soon can you get a marriage license?" Juliet repeated. "If you go tonight we can get married tomorrow. Oh, Allan, of course I'll go with you. I love you--love seems too _shallow_ a word for what I feel. I've never loved anyone else."

"But--but--what about John Lester?"

"What about him?" Juliet laughed. "Don't worry--I'll handle that."

"But college!" Allan grasped her hand. "I know you wanted so badly to finish"

"There are schools in California, I'm willing to bet," Juliet said impishly. "And somehow, now, after everything--that doesn't seem a bit important."

"What about New Moon?" Allan brushed a lock of her chestnut hair from her forehead. "My darling, I know you didn't ever want to leav e it."

"Allan Miller!" Juliet leaned to press her cheek against his. "Are you trying to talk me out of marrying you? When I've wanted my whole life to do it? You _don't_ think I'd run the risk of losing you again, do you? No--I'd follow you to the moon if that's where you were headed. 'Wherever you go, I will go'--oh, the Book of Ruth puts it just right, doesn't it? Let's go back to the house and tell everyone our news!" 

"Not yet," Allan said. "I have a Bible verse of my own--'Rejoice and be glad, for what was once lost has now been found.' And there's something I've been aching to do for a while and haven't been able to--but I can now! And will!"

And sitting among the ghostly shadows of the spruce trees, he kissed her. 

* * * 

Allan went right to town for the license and the rings, and Juliet did a little, elfin dance of joy on the verandah of New Moon. Then she danced into the hallway and into the parlor, where Aunt Ilse and Mother looked at her as if she were mad. 

"I'm the happiest girl in the world," she announced to them. 

"_And _you're getting snow all over the parlor," said Mother wryly. "Go to the hall and take your boots off--then come and tell us why you're the happiest."

"I'll tell you now, then go." Juliet's eyes sparkled. "Mother--Aunt Ilse--call Aunt Elizabeth and Bella. We're going to need all the help we can get. Oh, and I know Joy Penhallow would gladly make the wedding cake--Trudy will be in charge of flowers, Ingleside always has such lovely ones--and I can wear Bella's dress and veil if she'll let me. We must hurry--we have only a day to arrange my wedding!"

"Juliet," said poor Aunt Ilse. "Who--are you--planning to marry?"

"Why, your Allan, of course!" Juliet smiled a contented smile. "We're getting married tomorrow, right here, in the parlor of New Moon. And when he goes to San Francisco--I go, too. Shame on you both for keeping his secret, though!"

The two women gave cries of joy and ran to embrace her--even Mother, who wasn't supposed to exert herself. Then Aunt Ilse ran for the phone and Juliet gave Mother a kiss and extracted herself from her embrace. 

"Excuse me, Mother dearwums," she said. "But there's something I must attend to."

* * * 

"Douglas!" Juliet summoned her brother. "I need you to do something for me. A special favor--all brides deserve a special favor--I'll explain when you get back, if you do this for me, what I'm talking about. Can you take a letter to Tall Pines in Avonlea? It's the house with the red shutters at the corner of the main road near the railroad bridge. And don't lose it--it's very important."

Douglas, mystified, agreed. 

__

Dear John, Juliet wrote hurriedly, 

__

I thought I could marry you, but now I know I couldn't possibly. I'm sorry--but you must see that you don't really love me, either. We've only been pretending. If you don't see it now, you will in time, I am sure. I hope that one day we will be able to be friends. But it will never be anything more, you must believe me. 

Juliet Kent (and after tomorrow, Miller). 

She folded the note and put it into an envelope with the hefty bauble John had given her. But at the last minute, she opened it back up and added a postscript. 

__

P.S. Give this ring to Greta Burns. She loves you and she'd be a far better wife for you than I ever could have been.

"There," she said, handing the slim package to Doug. "Hurry now!"

As Doug went, Juliet sat at her desk and studied her naked hands. Then she reached into her pocket and took out the ring that Allan have given her again, and slipped it on her finger. It felt as light as her heart compared to the heaviness of John's ring--it felt _right_. 

"How wonderful I feel," she whispered to herself in the darkened room. "I'm Allan's forever and ever now! But oh, I _do_ feel sorry for John." She contemplated the thought for a moment, until some perverse imp made her giggle and she added,

"But I _would_ like to be a fly on the wall in the Lester home with that old bat finds out her son has been jilted--by _common_ Juliet Kent of New Moon!"


	18. For Auld Lang Syne

Juliet Kent married Allan Miller in the parlor of New Moon, just as she said she would, on New Years Day 1947. She wore Bella's simple wedding dress and carried a bouquet of narcissi from the Ingleside greenhouse in her arms. 

"They're so lovely! I can manage without a veil," Juliet laughed. "But not without a bouquet. I wouldn't truly feel like a bride without one!"

Mother and Father were in attendance, of course, as were Aunt Ilse and Uncle Perry and Little Elizabeth. Bella and Doug postponed their journey back to Guelph to stay for the wedding. Bella was to stand up as Juliet's matron of honor and Doug would be Allan's best man. Little Embeth was the flower girl--they decked her out in a frilly white gown and wreathed her head with hothouse roses. She looked more festive than the bride, who was simple but radiant in the plain gown. But of course Embeth was too small to carry out the official flower girl duties. She seemed much more interested in trying to eat the ruffles on the hem of her dress, and in the middle of the ceremony kept pointing at little Rose Anne Penhallow, nestled in Joy's arms, and crying out, "Baby!" in a triumphant tone.

Reverend Meredith would perform the ceremony, and pretty Mrs. Meredith came along as his guest. Juliet also sent an invitation to old Mrs. Blythe--she was so gentle and kind. Juliet wanted her gentle soul to smile on she and Allan when they were married. Mrs. Blythe _did_ come--but she didn't bring the veil that she'd shared with so many brides--it had been worn so much that it was tattered beyond repair, now. 

"But I don't mind," she smiled. "Every time it has been worn, it's been worn with true love in mind. You remind me of myself--when I was young--when I was marrying my darling Gilbert. _Dear_ Gilbert! Anyone can see that _you_ don't need a veil to be a happy bride--the happiest of brides."

So they fashioned Juliet a crown of holly and ivy, instead. 

Trudy was there--and Blair King. Juliet never would have thought that Blair would be a good enough friend to be at her wedding--to Allan! But it seemed natural to have him there. He was a friend--a true friend. 

"Besides," he winked. "I've been so caught up in this romance between you and Miller that I simply _have_ to see how it turns out."

Bea and David, of course, came. Bea had to sit the whole time--she was hugely pregnant--and peeved that Juliet had planned her wedding at such an inconvenient time. 

"Couldn't you all have waited?" she said. "Until March or April, when I was able to dance and have a good time again?"

"We couldn't, Bea," Juliet said honestly. "We're leaving in three days." She filled Bea in on her and Allan's plans--_hers_ and Allan's! From now on any plans they made would belong to the both of them! 

Bea burst into tears--she hadn't known. "California--is--so far away," she sobbed. "I'll never see you. We'll fall out of touch--we won't be friends anymore. Oh, you can protest all you want, Juliet, but I know it's true! You--and Allan--both gone! This is worse than when he went off to the war--we knew he'd be coming home then! You'll--never--be coming home now! And if you do, this won't be your home. Let me alone--let me alone!"

She flew from the room with surprisingly agility. David went after her. 

"Forgive her, Juliet," he said. "It's just that Bea loves you both so much"

"And we love her," Juliet said honestly, her eyes brimming with tears. It _did_ sting that she would have to leave Bea. She remembered all of their late-night talks over the years--their lazy summer days on the porch at New Moon--the wintry afternoons huddled in Bea's room listening to her radio. 

"Bea's right," she whispered to herself as she stood on the New Moon verandah and surveyed the snowy fields around her. "We _will_ fall out of touch--somewhat. And I'll never get to know Bea's baby--I'll always be a shadowy presence in its life. The same with Embeth--they can visit, of course, but it isn't the same."

A few soft, fat snowflakes began to fall. 

"But I would trade all of it--all of this--for Allan," she laughed joyfully. 

"Juliet!" It was Aunt Ilse's voice. "Get in here, you bad thing! We're ready."

Juliet twirled in her long dress and blinked as snowflakes settled on her lashes. The old house watched her and shared in her happiness. 

"Darling New Moon!" she said. "I'm so glad I'm _here_ on my wedding day. You're like an old friend--!" Impulsively she touched her lips to the old porch rail and blew a kiss to the quiet spruce trees in Lofty John's bush. 

"Jul-i-_et_!" Another cry pierced the night, and Juliet _Kent_ opened the door and went into her beloved New Moon for the last time. The next time she entered it, she would be Juliet Miller! It seemed like a different person, entirely. 

* * * 

They all admitted later that it was the nicest wedding any of them had ever been to. So simple and homey compared to those big, wasteful monstrosities thrown every spring and summer in the town halls. And Juliet was the prettiest bride any of them had ever seen. Her long, dark hair rippled down her back and shone with red glints in the firelight. Her eyes were as blue as the gulf and sparkled like the sea when the sun was on it. And Allan Miller looked happier and more contented than anyone had seen him look in years--happier than anyone had seen him look since before the war. There was a deep satisfaction in his eyes as he wrapped his arm around his bride--he beamed proudly as if to say, "My dream was almost out of reach--but I've caught it--and what a beautiful dream it is!" 

They had a merry dinner after the ceremony and pulled the curtains back and dimmed the lights so that they could see the snow come down. It was a lovely, ghostly meal--hints of goblin magic were everywhere, peeking around corners and from behind curtains. 

But after supper they were ready for _fun_. The whole gang went into the kitchen and roasted chestnuts on the big cook-fire. David Walsh brought his ukulele and they sang song after song, all voices blending in perfect harmony until they flowed together like one exquisite golden thread. Even Bea cheered up a bit, though her eyes were pink and watery and she wouldn't meet Juliet's gaze. The babies slept peacefully in their mothers' arms, their mouths forming contented rosebud smiles. 

At midnight Allan Miller took his bride's hand in his own and the pair slipped off to the summer house, where they would spend their wedding night, as the rest of the gang in the kitchen sang the haunting melody that floated over the night and wound like smoke around their ears:

__

Should auld acquaintance be forgot

And never brough t to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot

And days of auld lang syne. 

For auld lang syne, my dear

For auld lang syne

We'll take a cup of kindness yet

For auld lang syne. 

"Auld lang syne--days gone by," Juliet translated. "Think of all the days that are behind us now, for ever." She gave a ghostly little shiver and let Allan wrap her in his arms. 

"But think of all the ones that are in front of us," Allan reminded her, and as the good folks in the house cheered and clapped, the new husband and wife kissed, standing in the snow, with a song in their hearts and the lights of New Moon washing over them. 


	19. Going Home

A/N: This is the last chapter, folksin this installment, at least. Do you all really want ANOTHER Juliet story?! It would be a sequel to a sequel to a sequel to a sequel! Since I started this loop off with "Emily's Path" a sequel to "Emily's Quest!" But if the consensus says yea than I suppose I must listen. J 

I feel like LMM herselfshe only planned to write three books about Anne at most, but people kept clamoring for more so she kept on and on. Glad everyone liked the story, though. It gives me a fuzzy warm nice feeling inside. 

Miri: No, John Lester isn't any Anne character's child. Just a random dude with ties to the Island. I wanted him to have some ties to the Island so that the fact that he liked the city more would show that he really wasn't a "kindred spirit" to Juliet. 

Terreis: San Francisco was a surprise to me, too! It just popped into my mindI wanted Allan to go someplace far away from the Island, though, so that Juliet could prove how much she really loves him by leaving her home far behind. And P.S. I think Chris is _just_ at the right age to be in engaged in your story! I was a young bride, too (21!), and I think it's the sweetest thing. WRITE MORE SOON! 

Thanks for all the birthday well-wishes, guys! Now, here goes.

* * *

The next days--Juliet's last days at New Moon--flew by in a frenzy of packing and planning. She packed all of her and Allan's things and arranged to have them shipped to San Francisco. Father booked tickets for them on the airlines. Aunt Ilse helped Juliet shop for new clothes for the both of them--many of their heavy woolen things would be too warm for the mild climate. And Mother gave them so many lovely things for their new house! Juliet's wedding might have been simple but her trousseau was fit for a queen. 

There was the old silvery gazing ball to hang above her dining table--the Wedgewood tea set that had belonged to Grandmother Juliet, her namesake--linen tableclothes and silk sheets and a little green agate frog. Juliet marveled over each one and planned where she would put it in her new house--for she had seen what was to be her new house and felt a bond with it already!

Allan brought her a picture of a little red house built into the side of a hill, with the sea glinting in the distance. It was lovely--beautiful! But _not_ as beautiful to her as New Moon--not yet, at least. Perhaps one day it would be. 

She traipsed the grounds of New Moon whenever she got the chance. "Aren't you going to take pictures of it?" Trudy asked. She'd given Juliet several rolls of film as a goodbye gift--it was the perfect gift. Juliet had already filled a roll with the familiar Island faces that she loved, but she could not photograph New Moon. 

"Photographs don't do this grand old place justice," she said. "I'd rather take pictures of this dear old place with my mind--and carry them forever in my heart."

A steady stream of visitors poured in and out of the parlor. By the time she was done receiving them Juliet felt as though she'd been run through the mill! 

"Mrs. Drew warned me several times not to dye my hair," she laughed. "She's convinced that everyone in California does it. Although she _did_ imply that I could use a color rinse! Irene Howard told me that it was a bad thing to follow your husband wherever he takes a notion to go off to--advice about marriage from a spinster! And Rhonda Perlman delighted in telling me that there might be another earthquake and if there was, I'd likely die since I didn't know what to do in one. Oh, Allan!" She laughed and settled her weary head on her husband's shoulder. 

But most of the people who visited were loving, kind people who wished her well--and that hurt Juliet almost as much as the ones who came that were mean. Because she didn't want to leave such a warm, loving circle of friends. Cathy Douglas--Mrs. Gilbert Ford, Trudy's sister-in-law--came for tea and by the time she left both she and Juliet had filled several hankies with their tears. 

"I didn't know you were such friends with Cathy Ford, dear," said Mother, perplexedly.

"I'm not," Juliet wept. "But she is a nice girl--and now we'll never get the chance to be fri-e-e-ends!"

One person didn't come to call: Bea. Juliet rang over to her house in Harmony several times. But Bea was always busy or asleep. Juliet knew that it was painful to Bea that her brother and best-friend were leaving but

"Does she really plan to let us go without saying goodbye?" Juliet sighed. 

* * * 

And suddenly, the day of their departure was before them. 

Juliet was up with the sun--what little sun there was that day. It was raining, spoiling any hopes she had for one last ramble through Lofty John's bush and the old family graveyard. The cold wet day put a damper on everyone's spirits, which they were trying to keep up. 

"I don't mind a lovely, snowy day," Juliet said. "But a cold winter rain is the _worst_."

Everything brought quick tears to her eyes. The sight of Mother in the kitchen, turning bacon in the pan--Father, reading the paper in his bedroom shoes--Douglas stirring his coffee and Bella encouraging Embeth to eat her eggs. Aunt Ilse in her ridiculous pink-feathered hat. Uncle Perry's crinkled smile--the old cracked everyday dishes that had been at New Moon for seventy years, at least--even the jar of colored grasses on the sideboard that had annoyed Juliet in her youth made her feel strangely nostalgic. 

Juliet went up to her room--her little, charming, over-the-stairs bedroom where she would never spend another night. Not really--she might stay here when she visited but it wouldn't be the same--the room would have forgotten her. It would be Embeth's room when she was older--Doug and Bella were thinking of moving back to the Island. If they did, Mother and Father would surely move back to Evensong and let them have New Moon. They would move in Embeth's toys and Embeth's books--she would hang the closet with her own pretty dresses--she would lie in this bed and dream her own rose-hued dreams. No, it was Juliet's room no longer. 

Juliet ran her hands over the bubbly glass of the window panes--glass that had been there for over a hundred years. She touched the sleek wood of the mantlepiece and touched her lips to the splintered old windowsill. She flung open the closet and stared at the old dresses that hang inside. It gave her a chill--they looked like Bluebird's wives. There was the dress she'd worn to Bella's wedding--the blue dress she'd worn on the night she thought she fell in love with Blair. The old, faded print that she'd been wearing when Allan had come home from the war. Juliet touched them all and sighed. 

When she moved the rack of dresses, a flickering prism of light danced over the back wall of the dark closet and something caught her eye. Juliet opened the door wider to let the light in--parted the hangers and peered back to get a better look. 

Carved delicately into the back wall of the closet was a name and a date: _JULIET MURRAY 1870._

Juliet's heart caught in her throat. She had always know that this was Grandmother Juliet's childhood room, but they had never found anything of hers in it. That had all been cleaned out by Great-Grandfather Murray after Grandmother eloped. He had wanted no trace of her to be left. Growing up, Juliet had envied Bea the heaps of information she had about her own Grandmother, her namesake. She had diaries, and letters, and photographs. 

Stepping into the closet Juliet took a slim nail file from her pocket and touched it to the soft wood, carving a message of her own underneath that of the lost Juliet Murray. 

__

JULIET KENT WAS HERE. 1947.

"Now, even if this house forgets me, there will be no doubt," she said, straightening and giving a smile. 

* * * 

They'd double-checked everything and packed up the car. Now all that was left was the hardest part--the goodbyes. Juliet and Allan turned to both sets of their parents and embraced them. 

"You darling, darling girl," Aunt Ilse cried, holding Juliet close. "I wouldn't have trusted my man-child to anyone but you, you know. Oh, Allan, dearest!" And it was his turn to be embraced. 

Uncle Perry smoothed her hair and kissed her cheek--he was unexpectedly solemn and Juliet wished he would make a joke. It wasn't like him not to joke! Teddy felt his girl touch his hand gently, as softly as if a breeze had touched on it, and nothing more. 

"Goodbye, Father," she said. 

Then Juliet turned and faced her mother. _Dear_ Mother! The two women held each others hands and smiled into each others eyes. There was nothing to say--there was _too_ much to say. They would leave it at a wink and a smile. 

But then Juliet's smile faded. "I suppose Bea isn't coming," she sighed. "Oh, she might, still--can't we wait a bit longer?"

They waited for a while--but it was torture, postponing the inevitable. "You should go," Father said, though that was the last thing he wanted. "You'll miss your flight if you don't leave now."

So Bea really _wasn't_ coming. Oh, well! It wasn't the last time they would ever see each other.

Allan opened the door of the car and Juliet hopped in. Everyone shouted out last minute advice. 

"Remember to put the parking break on when you're on the ferry," Uncle Perry said. 

"Leave the car in the airport lot and we'll get it later," said Father. 

"Call when you arrive," said Aunt Ilse. "Don't forget!" 

"I love you," said Mother simply. "Both of you."

Juliet's picture of the four of them--the four of them, whom she loved so much--was clouded and blurry. "God knows when we all might meet again!" she thought. Out loud she said, 

"May God bless you all and keep you safe--may He keep us all happy and safe!"

Allan started the car and they drove away, Juliet watching lovely New Moon in the rearview mirror--like a contented cat with its feet folded under it--until it faded out of sight. 

* * *

Juliet was quiet as they drove down the main road. As they neared the Harmony turn-off she said, suddenly, "Allan, turn here!"

"What is it?" Allan said. 

"I want to drive by Bea and David's--I know we're pressed for time so I won't go in. I just wanted to beep and wave to her. Oh, Allan, please. You know we can't go without saying goodbye."

Allan sighed and made the turn. 

"Bea!" Juliet shouted as they pulled up in front of the house. She leaned out of the window of the car and shouted again, waving her hat. "Bea! David! Bea! Beep, Allan, beep the horn!"

Allan let loose with a frenzy of beeping, but there was nothing. Not even a curtain moved. 

"David's car isn't here," said Allan. "Likely they're both in town. Come on, Juliet, we'd better go. I don't want to leave without saying goodbye, either, but we can call when we get to San Francisco--when we get _home_."

The car was started again and they drove sedately on. 

When they were almost around the bend that hid the house from view Juliet heard a whistle and cry. 

"Jul-i-_et_! Allan!"

Juliet turned back to see a figure leaning out of the upstairs window of the Walsh residence. 

"It's Bea!" she cried, recognizing the honey-colored curls. 

The figure began to wave a white pillowcase frantically. 

"She's waving goodbye!" Juliet grabbed her handkercheif and leaned out the window to wave back. 

They kept it up for a moment or two more--then just before the car disappeared around the bend Bea leaned inside and closed the window. She knew it was bad luck to watch a parting loved one disappear over the horizon and out of sight.   



End file.
